


Shadow of Destiny

by Algol



Series: The Endgame Trilogy [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8301139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Algol/pseuds/Algol
Summary: Sequel to The Rook's Endgame.During the Valmese Campaign, Robin and the Shepherds find Morgan inside a mysterious gate from another timeline. Another broken future. Robin has no desire to play the boy's father, much to the dismay of Chrom, and he suspects Morgan isn't what he seems.However, the more he sees Morgan for what he really is the more Robin can't deny the course of his own destiny.When the foul dragon bears it fangs, will Robin save them? Or is he fated to watch Grima rise over the ashen ruins of their world? (Part Two of the Endgame Trilogy.)





	1. Winter's Child

There was one word Robin never expected to hear in his lifetime, and so certain of that he probably would have wagered his book collection. And everyone knew Robin loved those books like the son he would never have.

Correction: like the son he didn't think was possible. Until today.

The moment Chrom, Robin and a handful of Shepherds entered the mystery gate that had appeared after their dramatic rescue of the Chon'sin Princess Say'ri at Valm harbor, they knew there was something different. 

"It appears to be a fragment of corrupted space-time," Miriel had observed stoically.

The very idea of someone lost in time gave Robin the shivers, yet the boy they had found there wasn't some traumatized youth trapped in the bleak confines of a lost world. He was impossibly cheerful. Or simply impossible.

Even more so when that pale-haired boy in a tactician's cloak had spotted Robin and shouted, "Dad!"

Robin’s memory of that place was a dreadful haze but he had scarcely found time enough to parse those fragments. Presently the Shepherds marched deeper into Valmese territory while the boy, who called himself Morgan, rode beside Robin's horse with bountiful energy and a never ending stream of questions:

"How do you stop a cavalry charge with only infantry?"

"What do you do with falcon knights if it's raining?"

"Do you suppose the older you is somewhere out there looking for me? Maybe I should stay in one place, you always told me to do that if I was lost. But maybe I'm not lost since you're here!"

Robin rubbed his temples, exhausted with the boy and it was barely noon. Morgan had been riding in their company for two days now and Robin was no closer to figuring out what to do with him. Meanwhile Chrom was strangely attached to the boy already.

"Morgan! Come ride beside me," Chrom called from the frontline. "I need someone to tell me where to look out for ambushes!"

The boy was delighted. "I have more questions Dad so be prepared later!" Then he jaunted forward on his borrowed horse, courtesy of Lissa, and caught up to Chrom. Robin sighed. 

"It seems milord has taken a shine to the boy," Frederick remarked, pulling alongside Robin's dappled mount. "I think he's reminded of the day we found you."

"No one seems to recall that the boy came from a _mysterious gate_. Am I the only one who is the least bit wary?" Robin shook his head.

Frederick stifled a laugh. "I thought being wary was my job?"

Robin's eyes narrowed. "Funny. You know what I mean. This is hostile territory, and the boy claims to be my son?"

"How is that different than Lady Lucina's arrival? She is Chrom's daughter from an unwritten future. I recall you becoming her advocate when Chrom didn't want to accept her as his kin." A select few knew who Lucina really was; Frederick was one of them.

"Traitorous facts," Robin muttered. "Allow me my suspicions then."

Frederick didn't bother trying to smother an amused smile. "Very well. I'm surprised you're not more open to this. We know Lucina came from an alternate timeline of our world, and while she doesn’t recognize Morgan that could be because he’s from a different future."

Robin didn’t agree but he couldn’t place exactly what his reasoning was. He didn’t point out to Frederick that Lucina had arrived in their world as one of Naga’s chosen. An exalted hero. Morgan, if he was truly Robin's future son, was likely not in Naga's favor. Robin stretched his right hand--the one with Grima's ugly brand--wondering if Morgan had one as well. Lucina had proven her heritage as a daughter of heroes with Naga's brand. If the boy was his future son (never mind that the notion seemed all but impossible given Robin's lack of interest in anyone but Chrom) then he could be marked by Grima. 

He could be a servant of Grima. 

Robin had no idea what Morgan’s world had been like. From Lucina they had learned her world became a mountain of corpses when Grima appeared, and the dragon’s branded acolytes were harbingers of his destruction. No one bearing the fell dragon's mark was to be trusted. That included Robin, though none of the Shepherds agreed.

Robin watched Chrom laugh heartily at something Morgan said, the boy nearly falling off his horse with excitement. Chrom wouldn't approve of Robin's doubt but someone had to maintain the presence of mind to proceed with caution. And the usual suspects weren't up to the task it seemed.

So it was up to Robin.

* * * * * *

On the third evening of their march, Chrom and Robin retired to their tent while Morgan bunked with Ricken, who was elated to have the company of another boy his own age. At least Robin assumed the two were close in age. He hadn't asked Morgan's date of birth because the issue of Morgan's mother was an admittedly troubling subject. Fortunately Morgan claimed he didn't remember much of his past. Convenient timing, but Robin supposed he of all people shouldn't villainize the boy's amnesia.

"And you know what he said?" Chrom continued, "I don't _sea_ it! I was in tears I tell you!"

Robin hummed noncommittally. 

"You haven't heard a word have you?" Chrom frowned.

"See, sea...I get it."

Chrom furrowed his brow. "Okay what's the deal with you and Morgan? I think you spend more time avoiding the boy than anyone else here.” _And you’re his father._ Robin knew that’s what Chrom wanted to say.

"I'm just not sold on the idea I have a son quite yet,” Robin revealed. Personally, he didn’t think he would ever accept the boy.

Chrom responded with a complex smile, somehow both sympathetic and disappointed. "How can you not be? He's so cute, like a less worldly version of you! All curiosity and wide smiles."

Robin, dressing for bed, paused. "You're way too attached Chrom."

"Why? He looks so much like you, he even has that same scary intellect. Of course I'm attached." Chrom beamed like a proud parent. It was depressing to see Chrom so elated by something Robin wished didn’t exist.

Robin frowned. "And you aren't the least bit suspicious?"

"Lucina said there might be other children," Chrom replied matter-of-fact. He struck a match for the oil lantern beside their shared cot. The new flame conjured shadows that danced over the interior of their tent. "She doesn't remember Morgan but that just might mean he came from some other future, you know?" Frederick had said as much yesterday and the notion sounded no less dangerous from Chrom.

Robin, still shirtless, sat down. "I hate time travel. Nothing but one giant paradox if you ask me."

Chrom’s hands settled on Robin’s narrow shoulders, fingers gentle but firm. "When has anything in our lives been easy?"

Robin's concerned gaze beseeched Chrom's common sense. "Just promise me you will be careful with your words around him. We're in Valmese territory, surrounded by enemies, not to mention you-know-what looming on the horizon before us."

Chrom suppressed a laugh. "You-know-what?"

"I hate saying his name aloud," Robin confessed with a bitter sigh. After their meeting with King Validar, the Grimleal sorcerer who was mysteriously back from the dead, the frequency of Robin's nightmares increased. Grima waited beyond the shadows and Robin fervently hoped he wasn't part of the dark dragon's revival. Unfortunately that optimism felt more like naïveté with each passing day.

Chrom huffed empathetically before joining Robin on their too-narrow cot. "Alright, I will be careful." 

Satisfied, Robin returned to the task of dressing for bed. Chrom stopped him with a look--the sort of look that broke walls and melted hearts--before wordlessly shuttering the lantern. They didn't talk after that, slow kisses in the dark accompanied by the first pattering rain to hit Valmese soil since they had arrived. 

******

It was still raining by morning. The paths between tents were muddy trenches and, though it wasn't yet cold enough for snow, slurried ice bogged every puddle by first light. Morgan was disgustingly cheerful even with mud splashed up to his shoulders and eyes shrouded by a soggy hood. As Robin navigated icy tracks towards the dining tent, Morgan bounced alongside like a wet, delighted frog.

"Do you think Cordelia is making oat porridge today? I love it with molasses and chopped walnuts! It's so comforting during storms like this. In fact I remember eating nothing else for a week during one snowstorm that left us stranded in a training cabin. You didn't want to ever see another bowl again after that!" The boy's laughter rang like a bell.

Robin didn't hate porridge, but Morgan's careless reveal of something yet unwritten put him on edge. "I don't think you should talk about my future self anymore. I'm not him and I don't appreciate the comparison."

Morgan stopped in his tracks, eyes shifting to mud-caked boots. "Oh," he said in a small voice. "I didn't mean--" 

"I'm not your father no matter how much you want it to be true," Robin stated, every bit as cold as the rain pouring from a steel sky. He didn't look back as he entered the makeshift mess house, and when Morgan didn't follow he presumed the boy went off to annoy someone else.

The army was positioned in a valley below a mountain road leading to the Divine Tree, avoiding the higher elevations until the storm passed. That meant "Camp Muddy Wallow," as it was affectionately named, was home for the time being. It wasn’t the worst thing to happen since they embarked on their quest to rid Valm of ‘The Conqueror,” but Robin suspected the delay was giving Walhart time to marshal his forces. However there was nothing he could do about that until they reached Naga’s Voice at the Mila Tree. 

It was still raining later that day when Chrom had finally learned of Robin's harsh treatment of Morgan. He confronted Robin in their tent. "I can't believe you said that to him! Morgan's only a boy and he idolizes you!" 

Wrapped in a blanket at his desk, Robin slowly brought his nose out of a yellowed book and countered, "What I said was no worse than what you said to Lucina."

Chrom sniffed defensively. "That's different and you know it. Morgan hasn't done a damn thing to earn your ire."

Robin dramatically slammed his book shut. "Have you stopped to think I don't want to be his father? I never considered it a possibility and now I'm suddenly supposed to be one to a boy I hardly know?"

"No one said you have to raise him!" Chrom shouted, incensed. "You just listen to him. He isn't asking you for anything other than your time! It's something every child deserves."

"And what gives you the right to judge my actions?" Robin sneered. "You rejected your own daughter Lucina for months!"

Chrom's shoulders shook with something akin to fury and Robin's resolve shattered when he saw something in the man's eyes. "Don't you get it? These children are all grown up, properly raised by alternate versions of us that no longer exist. It isn't our job to raise them, but it should be our job to comfort them." He turned away from Robin and pushed open the rain-soaked flap to their tent. A grey drizzle continued outside. "Their world was broken and they are helping us keep this one from a similar fate. We’re allies at the very least and you’re treating him like the enemy."

Even though Robin knew Chrom was being sensible he couldn't help but hear hypocrisy in his lover's words. "You realize you're countering the very same position you took against me when Lucina joined the Shepherds."

Chrom shook his head and looked away. "I finally see the value of your wisdom then." He let the flap fall heavily, leaving Robin alone with his thoughts and the steady drum of rainfall. Of course Chrom wouldn't see reason. Morgan had already wormed his way into Chrom’s heart simply because he looked like Robin.

Robin stood from his chair and pushed the rain-soaked flap aside, staring out across a muddied field. Someone had to find out if the boy had an agenda, and Robin wasn't going to get anywhere being Morgan's friend, much less the boy’s surrogate father. He needed the boy to remain guarded in his presence--the stress of maintaining secrets often became a slippery slope of tells and Robin was determined to learn what Morgan knew about Grima's revival.

His chance came when the rain finally stopped. 

* * * * * * 

It was early, too early for the camp to awaken for the day. Robin had just awoken in a sweat from a nightmare, the same nightmare since they had departed Plegia, and he stepped outside for fresh air. Above him wispy clouds swathed a cold pendant moon and stars winked from the black, somehow appearing more distant than their Ylissean counterparts. The damp night was cold against his sweat-soaked skin and just when Robin was about to return to the warmth of Chrom's sleeping body he saw a shadow slip behind a dark stand of pines on the outskirts of camp. It could have been an animal--there had been tracks from wolves, deer, and bear in the valley--but Robin's gut told him something else was out there. 

He donned his heavy cloak--Arcthunder tome strapped neatly inside--and silently tracked the moving shadow as it passed beneath low-hanging branches and stepped over silver puddles of ice. The figure was definitely human and Robin wondered if he was just following Gaius on one of his nightly sweeps. Then the shadow stepped into the moonlit valley and Robin recognized Morgan's cloak, the one that was a twin to his own. 

More undeniable proof came as Morgan slowly lowered his hood, revealing pale hair matted against a round, boyish face. Robin unlatched the bindings around his tome, though he had no idea if he was going to actually use it, and clung to the shadow of a boulder. He could see Morgan's profile but little else beyond the voluminous folds of the boy's cloak. For long moments Morgan stared up at the moon, arms limp at his sides and body motionless amid serenading crickets and the far-away hooting of an owl.

Robin instantly suspected the boy waited for a clandestine meeting, perhaps with a Valmese faction or a Grimleal spy from Plegia. Even a third party Robin hadn't considered seemed more plausible than the boy quietly standing under the night sky humming an eerily somber tune. Long moments stretched into an hour, perhaps more, until Robin could no longer feel the tips of his fingers flexed against his tome. It appeared Morgan wasn't interested in leaving anytime soon and he didn't seem to be waiting for anyone either, so Robin took action.

"It's always suspicious when someone leaves camp alone in the middle of the night. Even more suspicious when they do so to practice something as innocent as humming."

Morgan's whistling tune died before he turned around, showing none of the shock Robin had anticipated. Then Morgan glanced at the magical tome between Robin’s fingers. His countenance morphed into resignation right before Robin's eyes. 

"I was kinda hoping you would be different here," the boy enigmatically replied.

Robin was caught off guard, inelegantly countering, "What?"

"I will still follow you of course. You're my dad..." Morgan continued, crestfallen. "It was stupid to think things could be different.” The boy looked squarely at Robin, a range of emotions skittering across his face. “Your eyes are the same as his afterall."

Robin didn’t know what Morgan hedged. "You're talking about my older self."

Morgan winced. "I'm sorry I compared you to him again." The boy looked afraid for the first time since he joined the Shepherds. Robin, for all his distrust, didn't want the boy to fear him.

"Look..." Robin stepped forward. "I'm not angry at you really. I'm just--I never pictured myself a father and then you arrived and suddenly I'm expected to be one," he explained resting a hand on his chest. "Surely you can understand how difficult it is accepting all of this. I’m actually surprised you are so ready to have me take your father’s place. Don’t you miss him at all?"

Morgan gave a tiny nod but still had a haunted look in his eyes. He said nothing.

"How about we start over, hmm? Put everything behind us and move forward," Robin offered, genial but a little distant. He wasn't ready to accept Morgan as his son, or even as an ally, but he had no desire to instill fear. Fear wasn’t going to unravel the truth.

Morgan didn't respond as expected. He started laughing; a dark, humorless laugh that sent chills down Robin's spine. "I've heard this all before...I guess we are destined to the same path in this world too."

Robin stared, quietly asking, "What path?" Though he knew, so deeply and so wholly, that it was the path towards a world smashed by the snapping of Grima’s chains.

"You know what I mean dad...I hate when you pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm your son so give me a little credit."

Robin scratched his cheek, off-put by the dysfunctional smile on Morgan's normally wholesome face. "Confusion is new territory for me here...I'm actually not sure what you mean."

Morgan's pale gaze regarded him in silence, lips taut and expression somewhere between disbelief and fear.

"Morgan..." Robin’s concern was becoming monstrous in size. "What did I do to you? The other me?" 

Morgan shifted then slowly lifted his bare arm, hand trembling into a fist. "If this is another test let me assure you that my loyalty to you is second to none. No matter how many fall." His arm straightened like an arrow pointed at Robin's heart.

And there, etched into the boy's flesh and glowing purple in the moonlight, was Grima's Brand. It was different than his own, but Robin had no idea what those differences meant.

"You're Grimleal," Robin announced as he shot Morgan a withered look. "Are you working for Validar?"

The boy sighed deeply, arm wilting back to his side. "Of course not." 

Robin scoffed, "Well you let someone give you that brand. I sure as hell doubt---"

"It was you!" Morgan suddenly shouted. "So stop testing me okay! I know what you want me to do here." The pallor of his face competed with the moon's paleness, breath ragged as he turned away. "I know...what you want."

Robin opened his mouth but nothing came out. Whatever words lived in his throat refused to leave. 

Morgan shuddered another breath. "I suppose you want me to prove my loyalty again? So who is the first this time?" The boy's boots crunched over grass dusted with frost as he paced. "Just tell me what to do. I will prove my love for you."

Robin's skin crawled. Morgan's words were just _wrong_. "I'm not asking for anything, least of all a gesture to prove your love. Love doesn't make demands Morgan. I'm not really your father, but I certainly hope my older self never taught you that." It was a strange feeling being mad at a future version of yourself, but Robin's anger wasn't mitigated by the bizarre circumstances. "He was wrong to tell you that."

Under the cold, bright moon Morgan was stunned, mouth agape as if frozen in time. As Robin stepped closer the boy's shoulders tensed. "I'm sorry." Those words ripped a heavy sob from Morgan, and in a fleeting gesture of fatherly affection Robin put an arm around the boy's shaking body.

Morgan desperately clutched Robin's cloak and buried his cries. "I'm so sorry," Robin whispered, wishing his words held the power to fix Morgan's tears. As infallibly as he knew the tenets of strategy, Robin knew Morgan had been used by a version of himself corrupted enough to brand his own son with a foul destiny. Suddenly Robin didn’t care why Morgan was with them, in this world. It only mattered that the boy wasn’t within arm’s reach of Robin’s future self, a man he was beginning to loathe.

"I don't want you to kill him--" Morgan brokenly sobbed. "He's so kind."

Robin's ministrations stilled, a cold lump forming in his throat. "...what are you saying Morgan?" Robin swallowed, uneasy.

Nothing could have prepared Robin for Morgan's next words. 

"Chrom...please don't kill Chrom again."

_Again_

How could he have done such a thing. He loved Chrom, he would never--no. No! Not ever.

"Chrom is someone I would never hurt. Nothing's going to happen to him," Robin assured, words vibrating inside his chest like a mantra. A prayer.

Morgan sniffled. "I'm not sure I believe that...but I want to. Gods I want to."

"Morgan, in your world...why did I hurt Chrom?" He didn’t want to know, but he had to; it was the same with verifying the death of loved one. No one wanted to see it, but they had to all the same.

Morgan looked up, eyes blinking back tears. "It's because Chrom was Naga's chosen hero."

"And that was a problem for me...?" How did that even make sense?

"Yes..." Morgan said slowly. "Grima hates Naga."

"I worked for Grima then," Robin grimaced, ashamed by the actions of a version of himself he couldn't fathom and equally horrified he posed a threat to Chrom and the others. Morgan was giving voice to every fear Robin kept locked away.

"No." Morgan stepped back and looked at Robin like he was someone to pity. "Don't you know?"

"Know what?" Robin regretted his question already.

"You're Him. You're Grima."

The world around Robin shuddered, teetering like a great wave that threatened to pull him under. He breathed but nothing came out. The crushing weight of darkness set in and Robin could only look up as the bright moon faded and disappeared.

Robin's legs collapsed and everything around him grew dark, extinguished like candle flame snuffed between two fingers.


	2. Shadows of Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, and unedited so please forgive my mistakes. I will eventually get to editing after I finish the last chapter. I'm making this story three parts instead of two since this chapter was getting so long. Thanks to everyone still reading this!  
> -Algol

After succumbing to darkness Robin hardly expected golden rays of sunshine to greet his awakening. Mildly disoriented, he blinked against the light before his eyes adjusted and landed on Morgan huddled beneath a drooping pine. The boy appeared fast asleep with his head cradled in the valley between bent knees, body dwarfed by the excess fabric of his over-sized coat--the same exact coat Robin wore.

Robin didn't know why he hadn't seen it before. The black and purple tactician's coat, the ill-fitted grey knit jumper beneath, the book Morgan clutched like he was afraid it might be torn from his hands and tossed back into the timeless void from which it came. Everything Morgan owned was a hand-me-down from Robin's future self and an inheritance meant for someone much older.

That mantle wasn't a burden for a child, yet future Robin had passed all of his tactical responsibility onto Morgan so he could take up another role.

As Grima's chosen vessel.

Robin bit back a curse as he recalled Morgan's words just before his every sense had been dashed apart like a wave against rocks, drowned in an emotion Robin still couldn't describe. Like witnessing what lived in the breath between sanity and madness. That was where he was now--under pines bejeweled in melted frost and prismatic light, staring at the boy who knew the ending to Robin's story.

A story prefaced with a heroic Ylissean prince offering his hand to a wayward soul and concluded with the death of that same prince offered to a Six-Eyed God who devoured him whole.

Robin sneered at the dragon's brand--those six violet eyes like the cursive scrawl of a hex--and curled that hand into a trembling fist. He wanted to see Grima, to see the dragon's true form and aim a spear of thunder right into its heart.

But Robin didn't have that power. He was doomed to watch Chrom die at his hands. Doomed to watch the world burn and his humanity crumble before divine madness, betraying the only person capable of saving the world. It was enough to drive the most stalwart person into mental destitution.

Unless Robin altered his destiny.

He breathed. 

Fate can be changed.

Futures can be erased. Proven by Lucina, whose grim world faded into non-existence when she stepped into its past.

Robin scrubbed his face before rising, convinced Chrom's death was changeable, and newly determined to prove his body and mind were more than a match for the dragon's sway. 

Robin brushed debris from his cloak before catching a glimpse of the jagged peaks above the valley where Naga's Voice slumbered in the massive boughs of the Divine Tree. He needed to talk to Her, the only being capable of answering the questions burning in his heart.

To the east, through thick pine and fragrant Valm juniper, sat the Shepherd's camp where Chrom and the others surely waited for Robin's return. He couldn't go back, not after Morgan's startling revelation and knowledge Chrom wasn't safe around Robin. He needed to figure out how to stop Grima--even if that meant leaving everything he had built over the last two years.

Even if that meant leaving Ylisse...and Chrom.

Morgan's pale gaze regarded Robin neutrally giving no indication how long the boy had been awake. He sat there quietly until Robin finally spoke.

"I take it you're not going back either?"

Morgan shook his head, hair mussed by awkward sleep. "I'm going wherever you are."

Robin couldn't blame the boy for following him, being Robin's son was the only role the boy had ever known. "I'm going to the Divine Tree."

"To see Lady Tiki?" Morgan questioned. "Is she awake then?"

"I don't know," Robin confessed as he looked back to the cliffs above them. "But if I am Grima's vessel then the time is right for her to awaken."

Morgan stood and stretched before fastening his cloak against the early morning chill. "Isn't Chrom going to the same place?"

Robin frowned before replying, "Yes but he's going to wait for my return as long as possible. We will have at least a day's head start. More than enough time to get the answers I need."

Morgan’s head cocked to the side, pale eyes searching. "What kinds of answers?"

Robin didn't reply, prompting Morgan to fill in the blanks. "Oh," the boy said in a small voice.

There wasn't any question what Robin would do if Lady Tiki affirmed the fears in his heart. He would not be responsible for the world's suffering. He wasn't going to watch Chrom die.

If that meant leaving this world then Robin was prepared to do so.

Morgan seemed to understand, perhaps better than Robin after witnessing Grima's revival in his timeline, and returned a solemn nod. The two drove deeper into the woods where sloping hillsides and hardy pine trees gave way to alpine shrubs and fragile patches of ice sheltered beneath rocky ledges along their mountainous path. After a few hours maneuvering rugged terrain they found an old foot trail. It was likely used by locals who lived in the hinterlands to sojourn in the valley before first snowfall. Robin had assumed several trails like it ran all along the mountain ridges, though the Shepherd's had planned to use the official Valm roads given the size of their army and the number of horses they had to drive up the mountain.

With just the two of them on foot Robin expected to make good time. After clearing a particularly steep rise he stopped and looked back, eyes moving across the valley below to smoke rising from the Shepherd's morning fires and their white canvas tents scattered like pebbles on a beach. No doubt Chrom was sick with worry, sending pegasus riders like leaves in the wind searching for Robin and Morgan. It was going to be difficult to stay out of sight from flying mounts but Robin kept to the shadows and didn't see any riders circling above them.

Their thirst was quenched with melted ice pried off the ground, but they went hungry. By late day they reached the ponderous roots of the Divine Tree and the meticulously crafted stairway which wrapped around the trunk all the way to the top. Morgan was uncharacteristically quiet which suited Robin just fine. A thousand questions buzzed in his head as his feet fleetingly perched from one carved step to the next.

At the top, swathed in the dying light of the setting sun, they found a Manakete woman sitting demurely in a bed of sleeping flowers. The Divine Tree's unearthly limbs cradled the fertile field around them like fingers holding a chalice.

"Welcome," she began without preamble, pale green hair undulating in a breeze that turned mysteriously warm the moment they stepped onto the treetop. Even in scant light her eyes were vivid. "I've been waiting for you, Robin."

Robin recalled the lofty legends written about Tiki, Princess of the dragonkin. None of them prepared him for reality--she was astonishingly youthful and radiated a quiet vulnerability Robin hadn't expected from a three thousand year old being. She waited patiently for him to return her greeting.

"I didn't know I was expected," Robin said before remembering she was also known as Naga's Oracle. That was the reason he had come, after all. "And I'm afraid I'm a terrible guest to have trespassed without so much as a gift."

Lady Tiki chuckled fondly. "I require no offerings." Then her eyes moved to Morgan. "You are both welcome here."

Morgan's face lit up. "Lady Tiki! Do you remember me?"

With a quizzical tilt of her head Tiki replied, "I'm afraid I do not. Have we met before?"

Morgan's shoulders slumped. "I guess not...well not here anyway."

Her eyes glimmered with understanding. "I see. We have much to discuss then. Please." Her hand, small and delicate, swept above the tightly closed flower heads. "Have a seat."

Robin's foot hesitated above the flowers as he wondered if trampling them was blasphemous. Lady Tiki encouraged him with a nod and eventually both Robin and Morgan were seated. Despite not eating during an entire day of exertion, Robin wasn't hungry. Guilt and worry twisted all of the hunger pains from his body. 

Morgan looked around as if he was debating the nutritional value of grass. Lady Tiki clapped her hands, sharp and resonating. At once a small, dragon-like creature appeared, eyes bright with intelligence as it trotted on four legs. The size of a hunting dog, its wingless back was pale green like Lady Tiki's hair and between two long canines it carried a large basket. 

"Thank you Kiri," Tiki smiled, taking the basket from the creature's mouth. The small dragon smiled and chirped. 

Morgan peered into the basket resting on Tiki’s lap. “Food?” 

“Of course,” she said, eyes smiling. “Please help yourselves. You must be famished.”

Robin appreciated the gesture but he wasn’t interested in delaying his quest for answers. “My Lady...I would much rather talk to you.” Morgan watched them carefully while taking steady bites from dumplings clenched between his fists.

Tiki’s lips lifted into a not-quite smile. “Eat,” she urged. “We have plenty of time for talk, Robin.” Her tone brooked no arguments, at once the authoritative voice of the goddess she served. He nodded, sufficiently thwarted, and reached for a carefully wrapped hand-pie. Once Robin took a bite he thought of nothing else but satiating his empty belly.

After gorging on meatballs, sweet potato pies, brown-sugar sausages and hot cider, both Robin and Morgan breathed in delightful relief. The air was so warm they had discarded their cloaks and Robin felt flushed from the cinnamon steam rising out of Tiki's cast-iron kettle. Morgan settled on his side, head propped on his arm and watched Lady Tiki with a measure of fondness normally reserved for someone Robin would consider a friend. It was clear the boy knew Tiki, was even friend’s with her, but the woman who sat before them was not the same. 

She was the Lady Tiki of Robin’s world and he knew nothing about her that wasn’t written in a dusty old tome. The way her eyes glinted when she found Robin watching her carefully implied she was more familiar with Robin than she let on.

“Now that we are sufficiently sated, you may ask your questions Robin,” Tiki spoke, casually sipping her tea.

Robin’s fingers gripped his knees. Where to begin? After taking a moment to collect his thoughts Robin decided to start with the question he had asked himself since Grima resurrected him after Lucina’s attack. “Can you remove the Brand?”

Morgan’s head swiveled towards Robin as if he hadn't imagined Robin asking that. Tiki revealed nothing in her posture but her gleaming gaze snapped to Robin and the bated grimace he must have worn on his face.

Robin’s only concern at that moment was Lady Tiki’s next words.

She blinked once, twice, then gingerly set down her cup. “No. Only the one who gave you that Brand can remove it."

Robin deflated. "It's evil, my Lady. Surely there is another way...?"

"Power is power young one. It is neither inherently good or evil. How we choose to wield power determines how history remembers such acts."

"If I am destined to become Grima's vessel I doubt history will see me as anything other than a monster." Robin's shoulders sagged as he shuddered a long breath.

Tiki shook her head, pale green ponytail sweeping the delicate span of her shoulders. "Heroes and Monsters, the world speaks of these things as irrefutable evidence of good and evil, yet these are only words."

"Words are powerful my Lady. For us they can destroy lives--launch warships, fire arrows and march soldiers." Robin breathed. "My words have done these things."

For a long moment Lady Tiki remained quiet. She puttered with the tea kettle, mixing in orange zest and anise stars before filling it with more boiling water. She set it aside to steep then turned her attention back to Robin. "I know. I also met a man many years ago who did the same. He grew haunted as time passed until eventually he could not sleep. Those ghosts followed him until the day he died." She frowned. "I regret I could do nothing."

Robin looked away, certain her words carried the significance of a premonition. He often felt those ghosts even now and he was possibly years away from processing the full extent of his role in Ylisse’s wars. Right or wrong, a person’s death was never easy to bear. The very thought of losing someone he knew, someone he loved because of his words alone nearly crushed him. 

But words were just the beginning of what Robin feared.

“And what about actions? This Brand proves I am capable of destroying those I love. You know the Fell Dragon better than any, surely you know what it means to be His vessel.” 

Tiki’s gaze didn't waver. “I know better than you.”

Robin pressed on, more desperate than he would have liked. “Then you must know that I am going to kill Chrom. I’m going to destroy the world, bring ruin and despair to everything I hold dear. You can see my future so tell me.” Robin took a breath. “Tell me what you see.”

The Oracle of Naga slowly rose, red suede boots planted firmly on the bed of slumbering flowers. “Walk with me Robin, Morgan. I have something to show you.”

Bewildered, Robin looked to Morgan who shrugged and moved to his feet. Robin followed suit, anxious and alarmed. Tiki’s deflection said more than her words ever could. The two of them followed the Lady to a circle of columns smothered by wisteria vines. In the center was a stone pedestal with a winking blue stone sitting on top. Tiki lovingly smoothed her hand over the stone. 

“This is Azure, the Star Orb and one of five sacred stones. It is needed to complete the Awakening covenant and wield the true power of Naga. That was how Grima was sealed a thousand years ago--someone of exalted blood performed the ritual and wielded Falchion against Grima. But even that power didn't kill the dragon, only put Him into dormancy.”

Robin inspected the stone. It didn’t look special at all but if what Tiki said was true, that stone was their only measure against the God of Destruction. “So there’s hope? If I become Grima there’s a way for Chrom or Lucina to defeat me?”

Lady Tiki suddenly looked distraught. “Yes, however, destruction is not the only path open to you Robin.”

“In the future I kill Chrom and burn the world to ash. There are a pile of corpses in Lucina’s and Morgan’s lifetime because of me. I see no other way.” Robin leveled his gaze on the Oracle. “Besides you didn’t answer me before. Naturally that means I’m right.”

Morgan, who had been silent up to then, finally spoke. “It’s true, Lady. I watched my father become the enemy of the world. Actually he...my father died the day Grima took over.”

Lady Tiki took in Morgan’s pained expression. “Child,” she began gently, “Your world is but one of many. Just as you are now here, there are more places where you and your father are together.” She then spoke to Robin. “I see many futures Robin. There is one where Chrom marries a strong, gentle woman who bears him a brave princess. Another where you marry a pale-haired woman and raise a curious little boy in the snowy mountains of Regna Ferox. And yet another where neither of those come to pass, and as you said, the world perishes in a sea of flame.”

“Then which is real?” Robin entreated. “Which is the real future of our world?”

She seemed puzzled by Robin’s question. “They are all real. There is not one scenario I see that cannot exist. Fate has always been like this: never one path and never quite what one predicts.” Then without another word the Lady began walking away from the stone circle towards a hillock on the rim of the Mila Tree’s great canopy.

Robin and Morgan didn’t immediately follow and watched her glide through moonlit grass. “She’s definitely the vessel of a goddess,” Robin declared. “Not quite what I expected and yet everything I imagined.”

Morgan hummed thoughtfully. “You know...she’s different here.”

Robin’s eyes moved from Tiki to Morgan. “In what way?”

The boy scratched his chin. “I don’t know it’s just...she seems less disoriented here? I mean she just woke up from a centuries long sleep and seems awfully functional. My Lady Tiki was very sleepy and a little out of touch with the world.” Then Morgan smiled broadly. “But seeing her makes me happy! The Lady of our world disappeared not long before I found myself here.”

“Another victim of Grima?” Robin cringed.

Morgan nodded. “I think so. Once Lady Tiki was gone there was no one to help perform the ritual needed to defeat my father so--”

“Morgan,” Robin interrupted. “That man is not your father. Not anymore.”

“Yeah...I know,” the boy replied, dejected.

Robin noticed Lady Tiki now sat on the grassy hill with the dragon-like creature from before. “We should join her.”

“Right,” Morgan agreed, disposition improved by the change of subject.

Once they arrived at the knoll, they sat across from the Oracle, noting the fine, soft grass beneath their rumps and the beds of moss that looked suspiciously like earth-born pillows. Tiki stroked the creature named Kiri as it purred like an overly large house cat.

“We sleep here,” she announced, yawning primly. As always her soft voice was juxtaposed to an underlying authority. She was someone Robin didn’t want to defy. And he wholly agreed they needed rest.

Robin stretched his legs. “Tomorrow we decide what happens from here on out. I’m not certain I’m ready to rely on five stones to save the world from Grima but right now I know I need sleep before figuring it out.”

Morgan answered with a wide yawn and launched himself into the grass, fitting his head against a moss pillow. He curled into a sleeping posture with an innocent smile and looked every inch a young boy. Robin lied down as Tiki’s bright gaze followed him.

“Remember that it is always darkest before the dawn,” the Lady announced just as Robin’s eyes closed.

He peered at her. “So they say. But what if dawn never comes?”

She clucked her tongue, lightly admonishing. “There are very few constants in our world, but the rising of the sun is one of them. Sleep, Robin. You will see the dawn.”

He was sure he would see the coming dawn, but the one far away from now he wondered about. If there was enough ash in the world it could blot out the sun. In that case, there would not be a dawn. But for now, Robin felt weariness in his bones and wanted to sleep. 

Sleep came easily.

* * * * * * * * 

It wasn’t dawn which awoke Robin from his surprisingly deep slumber. It was a booted foot tapping impatiently near his head. Befuddled with sleep Robin rose, rubbed the cheek that had been squished against moss all night and looked around.

“Morgan?”

“Try again,” snapped an all too familiar voice.

Robin whirled around, eyes landing on a disgruntled Chrom. The blush of dawn was just peeking over the ponderous branches wrapped around the Divine Tree’s canopy, offering enough light to clearly see a deep, frustrated frown on the Exalt’s face. Both Lady Tiki and Morgan were nowhere in sight.

“Chrom…” Robin whispered.

Then unexpectedly Chrom held out his hand. “There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know.” Chrom didn’t smile, but Robin noted the playful sarcasm dancing in his eyes. Those words hearkened back to the day he and Chrom met and Robin gladly accepted Chrom’s hand now as he did then.

Though his feet were planted firmly on the ground, Robin didn’t release Chrom’s hand and instead admired the rough callouses and scaly knuckles with the tips of his fingers. “I thought I still had half a day before you made it here.”

Chrom snorted. “You once again underestimate my tenacity when your welfare is involved.”

Robin smiled despite his best effort. “I see.”

Chrom drew him close, squeezing Robin’s hand between the warmth of his prayer-shaped palms. “Do you want to tell me why you left in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye? Do you know what it’s like to find you missing during a campaign in enemy territory?” Chrom cursed. “You had me worried sick, I was a mess you know.”

Robin opened his mouth but Chrom cut him off. “I know exactly what you're going to say Robin and I’m here to tell you, right now, that it’s bullshit.”

Instead of lighting an angry fire inside Robin, Chrom’s words reduced his previous fears to a low simmer. He pulled back his hand before launching himself into Chrom’s solid embrace. Wordlessly Chrom accepted Robin, squeezing the man like a lifeline.

“I’m--” Robin began.

“I know,” Chrom finished, lips near the shell of Robin’s ear. “I know, you beautifully frustrating, enamoring, fatalistic fool of a man.”

A terribly disguised giggle caught Robin’s attention and he turned to Morgan, who shuffled from one foot to the other trying not to directly look at them. “Lady Tiki wants to talk to both of you.” 

Chrom wiped what could have been a tear from the corner of his eye and smiled at Morgan. “We’re coming.”

Robin looked back at Chrom. “So how long have you been here?”

“Lady Tiki met me at the foot of the Mila Tree less than an hour ago,” Chrom explained. “For some reason Sumia's pegasus refused to fly directly to the top." As if completely involuntary, Chrom's fingers grazed Robin's cheek. "The Lady seemed to know I was there.”

“She seems to know everything,” Robin spoke, turning to place an errant kiss to Chrom's fingertips. They followed Morgan back to the field of flowers, dawn slowly encouraging the rosy petals to unwind. Soon all of the flowers were open wide, faces as bright and lovely as any Robin had ever seen. The Manakete Priestess sat among them, sleepy expression on her youthful face.

“Lady Tiki…” Robin began. 

She stopped mid-yawn and greeted them with a soft smile. “Prince Chrom, Robin, please sit down.” She tried to hide another yawn behind her slender hand. “Forgive me, I’m just so sleepy.”

There was something different about her now, Robin noted. Lady Tiki’s presence still belied her ancient powers but she seemed less the authoritative goddess she was last night and more like Robin had first pictured her--a long-lived Manakete deeply out of touch with humanity, whose role as Naga’s vessel had made her inaccessible to the rest of the world. She was indeed Lady Tiki, yet not the same one Robin had met last night.

“My Lady, forgive me my haste but my spies confirmed that Walhart’s General Cervantes is marching this way,” Chrom began. “So I fear we haven't much time. We are here because we think Grima’s revival is at hand and we need to know how to destroy him.”

Tiki blinked slowly. “Destroy Grima? You are mistaken, Prince Chrom. Grima cannot be killed.”

Chrom looked like he had been punched in the gut. “...what do you mean?”

The slight woman looked between Chrom, Robin and Morgan before delivering her answer. “I mean only the power of Grima can destroy Grima. The Sacred Stones can only seal Grima’s power. So it was when the first Exalt fought and defeated Grima.”

Robin reached for Chrom’s shaking hand, a physical reminder of their solidarity. “So no matter what we do Grima will be a problem for future generations as well?”

“I’m afraid so. With the Fire Emblem and Sacred Stones you may perform the Awakening Ritual and receive Naga’s power. But even Her power cannot destroy Grima, only seal him away for a thousand years.” Lady Tiki appeared groggy for a moment before shaking her head. “Prince Chrom do you have the Fire Emblem?”

Chrom moved to detach the shield at his back and presented it to Tiki. “Yes, right here.”

She examined the shield then frowned. “Where are the other stones?”

Robin recalled seeing Azure last night and spoke, “We only have this one, Lady Tiki. You have Azure correct?”

Tiki stared at Robin. “How did you…? Yes I have kept Azure safe for countless generations of man. I see you have Argent but you are missing three other stones.”

Robin already knew about the missing stones but Chrom was shocked. “Three? Do you know where they are?”

She nodded. “I do. I will give you Azure as well. Your task right now is to locate the other stones if you wish to seal Grima.”

Chrom retrieved the Fire Emblem, determination etched clearly on his face. “Right. Thank you my Lady for giving us hope.” He smiled at Robin. “You see, there was no reason for you to run off and try to do this alone.”

Even though there was a way to re-seal Grima Robin didn’t share Chrom’s optimism. “Chrom, we still don’t know where and when He will rise. And there’s something else…”

Robin was stalled when a messenger falcon shrieked upon arrival. The bird landed lightly and Chrom rushed to untie a small scroll case bound to its back. It squawked once then leaped back into the air, swooping underneath giant foliage.

"Cervantes' Army is nearly here I take it," Robin assumed. 

Chrom read the note then confirmed as much. "Less than half a day away."

"And the Shepherds?"

"They're close. Close enough for us to form a defensive line before Cervantes arrives."

Despite news of the impending attack, Lady Tiki appeared unmoved. "Are they coming for Azure?"

"Probably. And for you My Lady."

"I see." Her countenance remained stoic despite the impending attack on the Divine Tree. She either was supremely confident in Chrom's ability to defend her or unfazed by the thought of capture. 

Robin turned to Tiki. "My Lady, is there a way to seal Grima without the stones?"

Her eyes fluttered closed as if it took all of her resistance to remain awake. "I--I don't think so.”

"What about me?" Robin pushed. "I'm Grima's vessel. Surely I can do something?"

Chrom's consternation evolved into fear as he placed a firm hand on Robin's shoulders. However he didn't seem to know what to say and only grew more distraught as Robin continued.

"If only Grima can destroy Grima then doesn't that give me the power to destroy him?" Robin felt Chrom's grip tighten.

Tiki lifted a finger to her chin, head tilted like a bird's. "I can feel a power in you similar to mine," she declared. "But I don't know if it's enough."

"If it were enough what would I need to do?"

"Robin..." Chrom pleaded.

Robin soldiered on. "Please, what would I need to do?"

She pondered Robin's question in earnest, long lashes fluttering against her freckled cheeks. Her lips, rosy pink, twitched into a small frown. "You would need to deliver the final blow to Grima with your Branded hand."

"That's all?" Robin leaned forward.

Tiki's ancient gaze suddenly rooted him to the spot. "And then you would die with Him."

Chrom sputtered unintelligibly. But Robin was pleased. "And that would be the end of Grima? Forever?"

She nodded.

Morgan stared at Robin, tears forming in his eyes. Robin couldn't even look at Chrom, though he already knew what was coming.

"No! No Robin! You're not sacrificing your damn life for this. A thousand years! A thousand years we can seal away Grima. That's good enough!!"

Breaking through Chrom’s angry rant, Lady Tiki added, “Though...I think there’s a possibility you could survive...I--I’m sorry. I’m trying to remember…”

Chrom wasn’t having any of it. “My Lady please don’t encourage his behavior. I’m begging you.”

She acknowledged Chrom’s plea but instead of agreeing with him as Robin expected, she challenged him with a steady voice that claimed, “It is the noble sacrifices which are revered by history, blessed by Naga and victorious in the face of despair. If Robin wishes to sacrifice his life to seal away Grima forever then you should let him.” Then her eyes softened. “It is love which motivates him Chrom. His love for you.”

“That’s--” Chrom faltered. “I know but..”

“You would do it,” Robin announced, capturing Chrom’s attention. “Without a moment's hesitation you would throw yourself on the proverbial pyre before consulting my opinion. We are one and the same Chrom. Self sacrificing fools who are each other's greatest weakness.”

“Then let us stop being fools and start showing some self preservation,” Chrom begged.

Robin’s responding smile, mirthless and forlorn, broke Chrom’s resolve and he squeezed back tears. “Morgan told me that you’re dead in his world. And I’m the one who killed you.”

“That’s--” Chrom sniffed, “That’s not going to happen Robin.”

“I know, my sacrifice ensures that outcome. I hold nothing more precious than you Chrom.”

No one could argue Robin on that point and Chrom knew it. He knew it and despaired because there was little he could say to change Robin’s mind. However Chrom, determined and stubborn to the end, was going to do something. He was going to rail against this fate Robin had engineered for himself. It was clear as day to anyone looking at the resilient expression dawning over the Ylissean Exalt.

Chrom was going to wage war against the destiny of the one of loved.


	3. Dreams of Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from Chrom's POV-hopefully this didn't come as a huge shock. I feel like I sort of set this up at the end of the last chapter? Anyway, I thought it would be interesting to tell the story from his perspective for a bit.

Their armies clashed when the sun reached its zenith. Cervantes proved as capable a general as Gaius’ spy network had cautioned, and for more than one moment Chrom thought his army on the brink of defeat. However, those moments were fleeting because every time he saw the enemy drive a hole in their defenses Robin was two steps ahead, already patching it up with armored troops and layering a wrecking force of mages behind them. The Valm army was incredibly well-trained with high morale and an obvious respect for their leader, but they lacked one crucial element.

They didn’t have a tactician like Robin. 

Once again Robin’s battle expertise astounded Chrom, how he commanded people from all over the battlefield using a simple system of fleet-footed mercenaries and sub-leaders who were briefed on all possible scenarios Robin was prepared to conquer. And that’s exactly what their tactician did. He conquered. Chrom had seen and fought his fair share of battles but each time Robin took to the field Chrom was in awe of his strategic improvisation. What was talked about in the war room before battle often starkly contrasted what actually happened on the battlefield. Most tacticians boasted a success rate of sixty percent, slightly better than the average game of chance. The very best could say they won eighty percent of battles initiated by their countries, and often that success rate rankled the opposition enough that armies fled or surrendered upon the appearance of the master tactician. They were in Valm so no one knew about Robin, otherwise they might have considered fleeing as a matter of course.

In less than an hour what remained of Cervantes’ army fled down the mountain toward the imperial road. The general himself faced Chrom, sputtering beneath his bushy beard.  
“But...how can this be? My invincible mustache? Blasted science, you have played me...for a fool...”

Chrom had no idea what the man babbled about, but was relieved to see him marching away with the rest of his men. Despite news of Walhart’s subjugation and cruelty of Chon’sin subjects and other smaller nations in Valm, his general Cervantes seemed the honorable sort. Robin, who stepped up to Chrom shortly after Cervantes’ retreat, thought so as well.

“There are good men following Walhart. It’s a sign that not all is what it seems when it comes to his quest for domination,” Robin noted. 

Chrom agreed. “For now we have won the day and know our next step. We should mobilize as soon as everyone is rested and fed.”

Robin shifted from one foot to the other. They hadn’t resolved their earlier argument about Robin’s incessant desire to sacrifice himself and Chrom was painfully aware it was neither the proper time or place to have that discussion. He wanted a warm cozy room, candlelight and less than an inch of space between them before having that conversation again.

"Right. I'm going to say farewell to Lady Tiki. Morgan and Lucina are already headed to the top to make sure she's unharmed."

Normally Chrom would meet with his men after a battle to recount losses and assess his soldiers' morale, but he was so afraid Robin would leave without him that he instantly replied, "I'm coming with you."

Robin opened his mouth to speak before understanding passed between them and he nodded mutely, starting for the stairs leading up to the Divine Tree’s upper boughs. Chrom’s view was encompassed by Robin’s slender form as he followed closely behind, watching the tactician’s black cloak sweep each step. Chrom’s eyes moved to Robin’s shoulders, then the pale hair which shone in the sunlight. Robin was exquisitely beautiful. Chrom had always thought so, even from the first moment they met. Then that attraction had bloomed into love and now Chrom couldn’t imagine life without Robin.

His infectious humor, the twinkle of intelligence in his eyes, the way his mouth curved into a smirk when he was particularly sassy, and the smooth plane of skin that begged all manner of touch--Chrom loved all of Robin's quirks and nuances. He wondered what in particular Robin loved about him, but there wasn’t an inkling of concern about whether the tactician truly loved him. Even when the man planned to sacrifice his life for the good of the world Chrom didn’t question Robin’s love. His sanity, however, was entirely up for debate.

To Chrom, Robin had always represented dualities; refined and coarse, gentle and sharp, brilliant and convoluted, confident and uncertain, passionate and cold. Robin's dualities confounded Chrom, creating an irresistible mix of everything which fascinated and aggravated him. Robin was Robin and Chrom refused to watch him sacrifice all of that beautiful brilliance to the Fell Dragon. The problem of course was that Chrom couldn’t make Robin do what he wanted, no more than the moon could stay the rising of the sun. 

At the top of the tree Chrom saw Lucina and Morgan standing with Lady Tiki in a field of flowers, laughing. The unexpected scene made Chrom’s insides ache. He wanted his family, _their_ family to stay together. They weren't perfect, more than a little dysfunctional, and connected by temporal oddities more than traditional family bonds. But they had the potential to be everything Chrom dreamed, everything he wanted since his mother died.  
What more did Chrom crave other than Robin, Lucina and Morgan laughing together in a grassy field with the sun shining overhead?

For the briefest moment he pretended there was no war, no Grima, and no obligations to the Halidom. In the span of a breath he conjured visions of lazy afternoons spent by ribbons of blue water, where Lucina practiced Chrom’s fishing techniques, Morgan identified insect species, and Robin wore loose white linen as he set up a chess board in the shade of an apple tree. Chrom pulled a chilled watermelon from the river, barely getting time to slice it into wedges before Morgan tackled him for a piece. 

Chrom’s summer vision vanished and he was back on top of the Divine Tree, his army waiting for him below and Robin watching him quietly, concerned. “It’s nothing,” Chrom croaked. “A waking dream.”

“It can't be ‘nothing’,” Robin insisted. He reached out and gently touched Chrom’s cheek. “You’re crying.” 

“I--” Chrom started, not certain he was capable of explaining why he was in tears. Robin seemed to know exactly what to do though and scooped Chrom into his arms. Chrom held on so tight he worried he might break Robin, but he couldn't let go. “We never finished...our earlier conversation,” Chrom breathed.

Robin shushed him. “I know.”

“Then--”

“Chrom, do you know how your story ends?” Robin asked seriously, stroking Chrom’s hair. Chrom shook his head. “It ends with me,” Robin continued. “I am the foul Dragon’s vessel Chrom. Through me Grima is able to destroy this world. Everything we have worked for, everything we love dies if I don’t do something. Lissa, Lucina, Morgan, all of the Shepherds...all of Ylisse. Our family Chrom.”

“You’re the most important thing in my life,” Chrom insisted brokenly. “You’re everything…” Without looking Chrom knew what sort of expression Robin was giving him--a smile that was heavy-hearted and infuriatingly wise. The sort of smile Chrom hated to see on Robin when he desperately wanted to be right for once.

“I have the chance to free our world from a horrible cycle Chrom. I have the chance to repay everyone, to repay you for taking me in. The Shepherds treated me like family, and you have given me endless joy. Please let me save them, let me save you.” Robin placed a kiss at Chrom’s temple. “It will be a privilege and an honor to save you.”

Through the haze of his sadness Chrom knew they weren’t alone, but he couldn’t stop the tears that came unbidden. Robin simply held him and stroked his hair, murmuring something unintelligible but soothing. A world without Robin wasn’t a world Chrom wished to live in, but if Robin was right, if Grima’s end rested on him then...then…

“Father?” Chrom distantly heard Lucina’s words cut through his muddied thoughts. “Is--did something happen?”

Instead of answering Chrom swept her into his arms beside Robin. He kissed her head. “No...nothing to worry about. Your father is just--”

“I want a hug tooooo!” Morgan cried, leaping into his arms as well. The four of them were an entangled pile of limbs by the time Lady Tiki arrived.

Despite the nature of their previous conversation, Robin began laughing. “This is a little ridiculous. Hey! Morgan, you just elbowed my eye.”

“Oops,” Morgan stated sheepishly. They all laughed.

Lady Tiki’s eyes softened, twinkling. “I don’t envy you your path but I envy your bonds, Robin. Exalt Chrom.”

Chrom maneuvered his head to regard Tiki. “My Lady, I’m glad you’re safe. And thank you for giving us Azure.”

“I did nothing. You still have to retrieve stones from Regna Ferox, Plegia and the one here in Valm. ”

So she said, but Chrom knew she had given them and the rest of world hope. He fervently hoped Lucina’s razed future never came to pass. Robin was staring at Chrom, grey eyes weighted with resolve. Chrom’s head rested on Lucina’s as he gazed at Robin. “We need to go soon.”

“Yeah,” Robin responded, unmoving.

“Can we do this more often?” Morgan piped up. 

Robin’s lips curved into a smile, the first smile Chrom had seen Robin direct at Morgan. “Yeah...we can.”

The four of them bid farewell to Lady Tiki and rejoined the Shepherds below. Lucina watched him carefully, even when Sumia started chatting about something beside her. She knew something was wrong but Chrom wasn't about to dump his troubles onto her. His relationship with Lucina had a rocky beginning, and it took him a long time to forgive her previous actions, but she had become an irreplaceable figure in his life. She was his daughter and he loved her as such. 

The army was on the imperial road by dusk and marched half the night before setting camp between the pines along the road. They kept their fires low and conversations quiet. Chrom and Robin shared their tent with Lucina and Morgan, others also bunked together in groups of four and five to minimize the size of their camp. Chrom lamented their lack of privacy but he and Robin were so busy preparing for their march to Fort Steiger there wasn't much idle time. Chrom was just about to retire for the night when Lucina came up and quietly informed, "Father, if you have the time I would like to talk."

He rubbed his eyes and managed a smile. "Of course, I just finished my rounds." He stifled a yawn. "Did Robin and Morgan go to bed already?"

Lucina wrapped her cloak a little tighter when a cold breeze picked up. She wore the same outfit as before, echoing Marth the Hero-King of yore, but she kept her long blue hair unadorned and free. "Morgan did but I haven't seen Robin." She hesitated. "Actually I wanted to talk to you about Robin."

A soldier passed them, snapping a quick salute for Chrom. He returned a nod then told Lucina, "We shouldn't talk here."

She agreed and followed him through the trees, away from the Shepherd's fires. The woods were dark and cold beneath a cloudy night. Chrom stopped in a small clearing and sat on a fallen log. Lucina stood beside him. "I would rather stand," she explained. "There's frost on the bark already."

Chrom made a face when the cold sunk through his trousers. "I noticed, but I think I need to sit down for this."

Lucina's eyes, expressive as always, turned away. "You know what I'm going to say?"

“It's about Robin isn't it? I probably need to prepare myself." Chrom leaned back but there was nothing to see save for a dark-leaved canopy and pinpricks of light from a cloud-obscured moon.

Lucina watched Chrom carefully. “How long have you known?”

Even though she was vague Chrom had a good idea what she was referencing. “I think a part of me has always known, even back when I first met Robin. And then after you tried to…” Chrom gestured significantly, not wanting to think long on the time Lucina tried to kill Robin. “After that I definitely knew Robin was Grima’s chosen. Finding out he’s also the Fell Dragon’s human vessel was--” Chrom sighed, biting his lip. “Just another reason to fear the future.”

He didn’t like making it known that he was afraid, especially to his daughter, but Lucina knew better than anyone how horrible things could be. How tenuous their control was. He asked her, “How did you find out?”

She toed the ground. “I had a pretty good idea when Robin survived Falchion’s blow. I didn’t know he was Grima’s vessel until I spoke to Morgan and Lady Tiki.”

Chrom remembered seeing them chatting together at the top of the Divine Tree. He also recalled seeing laughter. “I’m assuming that’s not what you three were laughing about though?”

Lucina may have blushed but Chrom couldn’t tell for sure. She stammered, “Oh Morgan just--he had said something funny...It was…”

Chrom waved away her embarrassment. “I like seeing you laugh, Lucina. I would like to see more of it. Both you and Morgan. You two deserve so much more than fighting your father’s campaign.” He peered through the trees and watched the feeble, flickering light of a small campfire. “I wish I could give you a world of peace.”

Distantly Chrom knew there was a way. One way to defeat Grima forever, put an end to the Grimleal and usher Ylisse into a new era--one without the Fell Dragon’s mountainous shadow looming beyond the horizon. There was one way to end the cycle, probably the only opportunity they would ever get to do so.

“We still can bring peace to this world Father.”

He wondered if she knew Robin was capable of sacrificing his life in order to destroy the dragon. Did she approve? “Some costs are too great, Lucina,” he warned.

She pressed on, undeterred by Chrom’s sudden change in mood. “I would sacrifice my life to defeat Grima. You would too.”

So she did know. Chrom’s words hardened. “This isn’t up for debate.”

Lucina shook her head. “We have a chance, Father. A chance to end this madness so our descendants don’t have to face Grima. Possibly the only chance we will ever have.” Her words echoed his own thoughts making them particularly unbearable.

“Did Robin put you up to this?” Chrom bellowed, harsh words slicing through the dark. He realized too late how loud his voice was. There were enemy camps not far from their position. “Because making my daughter ask me to do this is--”

“He didn’t...I actually don’t even know how Robin feels about it. But I can guess.” She placed a hand on Chrom’s tremulous shoulder. “He has a good heart, like you Father. I know what choice he wants to make.”

Chrom nearly broke down. “I can’t--” He rasped. “I can’t let him…” He felt strangled by words. _I love him more than this world_ , he wanted to confess. _I could watch the world burn with him at my side_. It was selfish and horrifying he thought such things.

Lucina wasn’t an emotional child, her embraces were sincere but rare. He nearly fell off the log the moment she knelt down and wrapped him in her arms. He felt like a failure, to have his own child comfort him. “I know you love me. I know you love Ylisse,” she murmured. “And you love Robin, perhaps more than me and Ylisse.” Lucina preemptively shushed Chrom’s sounds of protest and continued, “But you can’t make him do what you want. He has to follow his own path.”

It hurt, Gods it hurt, but he knew she was right. They were the same words he told himself not long ago. Chrom huffed a mirthless laugh. “How did you get so wise?” 

Lucina reeled back, tiny smirk on her lips. “I guess I inherited it from my Father.”

“I don’t think you're giving yourself enough credit,” Chrom praised, hands placed on her strong shoulders. “You are an amazing woman. Wise, caring, intelligent, brave...I know I’m not the man who raised you, but I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have the honor of calling you daughter.”

Lucina tried to brush aside his praise but he could tell she was glowing. “I’m not so special.”

_You are_ Chrom thought, kissing her forehead. Lucina had come so far--from a scared, angry woman orphaned by time to one who loved and laughed as Chrom’s chosen heir. He often considered abdicating the throne to her while he settled down with Robin, but given the state of the world he knew that wasn’t possible yet.

“We should get back,” Lucina advised, surreptitiously watching the woods around them. She was right, it wasn’t safe to remain too far from camp. When they returned to the Shepherd’s fires Lucina dutifully made sure first watch was already in place, then they headed to the tent shared with Robin and Morgan.

“It appears Robin’s not here,” she observed quietly, pulling back the covers on her cot. Morgan slept peacefully beside them, snuggled beneath a mountain of blankets. The double Chrom and Robin shared was empty.

“Get some sleep Lucina,” Chrom whispered. “I’m going to look for Robin.”

“Father...”

He stopped her, hand raised. “Peace, Lucina. I know what you’re going to say. I'll be fine.”

She nodded then shed her cloak and boots and slipped into bed. Chrom crept out of the tent and searched for his lovely yet oh-so troublesome significant other.


	4. A Glint of Autumn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sap-alert! Also I have no idea how many chapters there will be. This story has gained a life of its own. I might go all the way to the end of Awakening, but I'm not sure yet.  
> -Algol

Robin remembered nothing about his time in Plegia before casting his lot with the Shepherds. From their campaign against Gangrel he knew the climate there was arid and harsh, nothing like the lush forests and fertile hillsides of Ylisse. Plegia was a foreign desert and though he knew he was raised there by Grimleal, Robin had no desire to someday return and trace his roots. Grima’s brand, ugly and stark on his pale arm told him everything he needed to know about them. They weren’t his family.

His family was here, braving Valm’s wintry forests and bearing fangs at a man everyone called The Conqueror. The men and women he loved were here, marching through cold nights and eating meager rations. The man he was devoted to was here, leading the vanguard with all of the might and defiance of a nation in his wake. Robin proudly walked beside them, more than willing to give his life to protect his family. That’s why he was here, after all.

Most tacticians fought wars behind the stone walls of a castle. They weren’t skilled with tomes or swords like they were with strategy and tactics. Their soldiers were pieces on a board, and if Robin was like them he might not have seen the Shepherds as more than foot soldiers, archers, mages and cavalry to maneuver across a two dimensional terrain. Good tacticians actually stood on the battlefield, positioned beside warrior kings and queens as an active deterrent to enemy forces. Though it was rare they ever lifted a tome or sword. Robin scoffed at the thought of taking such a position.

He and Chrom were soldiers first, tactician and Exalt second. That was why they had garnered such loyalty and why they continued as an unbeatable force. There were no glorified, untouchable positions on Robin’s battlefield. Just soldiers--men and women who trained and bled for justice and decency. With that thought in mind Robin moved between dark, looming pines deliberating his next move. As he meandered away from the Shepherd’s camp he felt the forest move in, a foreboding stand of foreign trees with frosted trunks beneath another cloudy Valmese night. He nearly lost his sense of direction before finding a break in the canopy and a grey moon peeking behind a curtain of chiffon. He knew the moon rose from the west and their camp was southeast along the road, so with confidence he continued west.

There was a hill he had seen from the imperial road, one high enough to overlook the stand of trees and possibly see the fires around Fort Steiger. After half an hour he found the hill, climbing with frozen fingers over steep rises until he reached the top. The forest around him stretched as far as he could see, only fading along the mountain slopes they had come from earlier that day. To the south he saw Fort Steiger’s dark silhouette surrounded by small pinpricks of light. There were a lot of fires, nearly thirty, but he didn’t think Cervantes’ forces had merged with them. That was good news. 

He was about to turn back down the hill when he heard branches cracking below. Immediately Robin hunched down, hands and knees digging into frozen soil. Beneath the summit Robin saw a shadow lumbering through the woods. If it was a Valm spy it wasn’t a very good one. Nevertheless precaution was paramount and Robin wasn’t going to take any chances. He unstrapped the tome under his cloak and let his fingertips brush the runes that were about to blast an arc of lightning into the world’s noisiest scout.

Then he heard a harshly whispered, “Robin?”

Robin almost slapped his forehead, groaning melodramatically. It was _Chrom_ , that explained the lack of stealth. He had nearly shocked the Ylissean Exalt into oblivion. Robin poked his head over the edge, answering under his breath, “Chrom! Look up.” 

The Exalt’s head snapped up and he grinned. Robin rolled his eyes. “Don’t look so pleased, I almost attacked you.”

Chrom effortlessly climbed the hill and joined Robin. “You wouldn’t have attacked until you knew I was an enemy.”

“You’re way too optimistic,” Robin playfully admonished. “And naive to my true nature.”

Chrom scooped Robin into an impetuous hug. “True nature? You mean like how you steal covers and bury your ice cold feet under my butt all night?”

Robin nodded sagely. “That’s right, I’m not someone to be trifled with.”

“Oh I plan on trifling you,” Chrom leered, leaning into Robin and waggling his eyebrows.

“You’re on a roll with the lack of subterfuge tonight,” Robin smirked as he unsuccessfully dodged Chrom’s freezing nose away from his neck. “How did you find me anyway? I nearly lost my way a few times out here.”

Chrom nuzzled Robin’s neck like a large, affectionate cat. “I followed your footprints.”

“My footprints? Chrom, you had no idea whose footprints they were.”

“Yes I did,” Chrom defended. “I could tell. No one’s footprints are as attractive as yours.”

Robin hummed, disbelieving. “I’m disinclined to accept that answer. How did you really find me?”

“Gaius led me here. But it sounds so much more romantic if I followed your footprints.”

“Romantic, yes. Practical and realistic? No. So Gaius is out here…?” Robin looked around before he remembered it was much too dark to see anyone skulking about. That was unless they had elephant feet like Chrom.

Chrom’s eyes glittered, lips curved into a sly smile. “Why? Hoping we’re alone?”

That wasn’t what Robin was going to say but Chrom’s enthusiasm was catching. “Chrom, it’s cold,” Robin mildly reasoned, fingers still tracing circles on Chrom’s arm. He cuddled up closer, stealing some of Chrom’s warmth.

“It is,” Chrom remarked, “And late. And there could be Valmese spies lurking about.”

Robin leaned back, eyes fixed on Chrom. “You’re not making a very good case for yourself.” He shrugged. “I guess you don’t want to try something after all. And here I thought I would have to find a way to get your hands out of my pants--” Robin was unceremoniously cut off the moment Chrom engulfed him in a searing kiss.

In moments like these, Robin forgot the rest of the world. Fear, anxiety, and worry morphed into sensation, elation, and passion; Chrom's warmth and solidness became everything. Neither had begun their relationship with an ounce of physical or emotional experience and yet they came together like practiced lovers, reading subtleties and seamlessly following leads. They loved like two people chosen by the stars to be together and met each rise and fall with an expertise normally derived from a seasoned and tested marriage. They had officially been together for almost a year, but had loved for the entirety of Robin’s collective memory. And as short as that was, to Robin the last three years were his entire life.

He had loved Chrom all his life, and planned on loving him until the end of it.

Chrom swelled forward, hands gently tugging the hair around Robin’s ears. _I’m desperately in love with you_ Robin heard through the blood rushing in his ears, _I don’t want to lose you_. Robin responded with kisses of his own, ones that said _I adore you_ _I want to keep you safe_ and _Please know that you are loved with everything I am, and I give you everything I can give_. When they finally parted Chrom rested his cheek against Robin’s, warm and steady puffs of breath rising into the air.

Robin gently stroked Chrom’s shoulder. “We should think about heading back soon,” he whispered against heated skin. Chrom nodded but didn’t move. “We need sleep if we are going to attack Fort Steiger tomorrow.”

Chrom hesitantly moved away, hands finding Robin’s and lacing them tightly together. “Yeah. I know.” He exhaled, turning away for a moment. 

Robin knew he was about to hear what Chrom was really thinking and squeezed their linked hands. Chrom needed to get something off his chest and Robin wasn’t about to stop him. They both needed a cathartic vent after last night.

Chrom briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them Robin read the unfaltering determination burning between those endless blues. “Robin, I’m going to gather the last three sacred stones and make a covenant with Naga. I know it’s silly to even ask you of all people this but...do you know what is required of me when I perform the Awakening ritual?” 

Robin nodded. He knew that the words ‘bathed in holy fire’ were more than just symbolic wording. There was real fire, and a very real chance Chrom would be killed if found unworthy.

“So it’s hypocritical of me to tell you not to sacrifice your life, because to either seal or destroy Grima one of us needs to risk it all. I think you know I’d prefer it be me. It has been my destiny since Falchion chose me as its bearer.”

Robin knew. He inhaled loudly, staunching the prickle of tears behind his eyes.

Chrom continued, “You know I don’t want you to risk your life, but ultimately that’s your decision. However let me be clear: I’m going to perform the ritual regardless of your decision. As the current Exalt of Ylisse it is my duty to use the Fire Emblem and ask Naga to imbue Falchion with the power to protect this world. Exalt Marth did the same a thousand years ago and now it’s my turn. There is no other option for me. So,” Chrom brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed the tips of Robin’s fingers. “You can decide to take on Grima by yourself. I know I can’t stop you. But also know that I’m wagering my life no matter what. If I survive I’m going to use the unsealed Falchion.” He flashed a supplicating smile. “It seems a waste for both of us to risk so much, so I’m asking you to please wait. Wait until we gather the stones and I perform the ritual. If I don’t make it then you can do what you need to do.”

Robin felt the tears he had tried to hide slowly slip down his cheeks. He understood Chrom’s inborn duty to Ylisse and wasn’t about to challenge it. That’s why he cried, because he knew there was no way to talk Chrom out of performing his duty. This wasn’t like Chrom being told he had to marry a noblewoman and have an heir, or being harangued about heading Ylisse's vanguard. Those were council preferences and nowhere was it written in stone that Chrom couldn’t remain unmarried or wasn’t allowed to lead troops into battle. What _was_ written in stone was Naga’s Pact--an Exalt’s duty to perform the Awakening should Grima rise again. Nothing short of death could release Chrom from that commitment.

Robin released their joined hands and wiped away tear tracks. “I understand.” He reached forward and cupped Chrom’s cold cheek. “I want to be with you as long as I can be before you are tested by Naga.”

“I wouldn’t expect less,” Chrom’s eyes, blue as the Ylissean sea, shone beneath a halo of pale light. The moon peered between parted clouds, illuminating the tree tops around them. "And please don't run off alone and try to take on the world without me."

Robin smiled, humorless but sincere. "Deal.” Robin leaned forward to re-initiate their kiss but stopped midway, brow furrowing. Something felt wrong.

Chrom sensed the change and worried. “Robin? Is everything alright?”

Suddenly a jolt of pain, like a thunderclap between his eardrums, knocked Robin off his feet. He could hear Chrom’s distant cries though logically he knew Chrom wasn’t far away. All sensible thought evaporated when another lance of pain struck, this time the agony raced through his body and shot through his fingertips, as if it was a thousand insects trying to burrow out of his skin.

And then he heard a voice. _Heed my call, Robin…_ It sounded like ants busying around a corpse, or the wet crack of bones breaking. Robin clutched his head tighter. “Who...are you!?”

_Why do you close your heart to Him Robin?_

Robin recognized the voice, somehow through the vile muck he could tell who it was. He just didn’t know how it was possible.

“Validar! Get out of my head!” The new Plegian sorcerer king Validar, whom he had only met briefly before to request ships for Valm, had somehow burrowed into his brain. The sheer magnitude of that violation made Robin howl in outrage.

_Such arrogance! You dare take such a tone with your own father!?_

Robin reeled, momentarily finding clarity on the edge of the pain still shattering his senses. Was he hallucinating? Was he still breathing? He only knew he was trapped in the oily venom of Validar’s words. How was the Plegian king speaking to him? Was it true he was his son?

_You are of my flesh, but of sacred blood. You are to serve a glorious purpose! Search deep in your heart. You already know it is your destiny…_

“I’m not serving you or Him!” Robin shouted. “Get out!” 

_Why do you resist us, Robin? Your rightful place is at my side. Not wasting your time with these doomed servants of Naga! Give yourself to Grima! Let me join your strength to the Fell Dragon!_

On the cusp of consciousness Robin heard Chrom’s voice, distressed and ragged as it repeated his name over and over again. Then he felt warm hands on his shoulders and someone pressing his head against a racing yet comforting heartbeat. Robin concentrated on that beat, breath steadying in time with the strong pulse beneath his cheek. Finally the horrific pain receded and his breath slowed as Validar’s vile words faded back into the black. 

Robin finally heard Chrom’s words, bright and shining like a prayer in his mind. “Robin! I’m here, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here…”

“Chrom? What--” Robin looked around hoping he wouldn’t find Validar somewhere in the shadows. Then he saw Chrom’s face fractured with fear. Once he regained his bearings Robin wanted to ease Chrom’s panic. “I’m...I’m fine. I think.” He wasn’t sure he was fine but he felt a mountain of relief when all traces of his former agony vanished.

Chrom sputtered, words somewhere between indignant and flabbergasted. “‘Fine’ is a poor choice of words! What happened?”

Robin opened his mouth to speak but stilled when he saw someone step out of the shadows. “Validar!” He cried.

Chrom whirled around, air singing with the whip of his sword as it leveled with the silhouette on the edge of the hill. “Come into the light or lose your head!”

“Blue! Bubbles! It’s me!” Gaius stepped onto the summit, ever-present lollipop stick jutting out between his lips. “Geez, I heard shouting so I came here. What’s gotten you two so jumpy?”

Chrom breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his sword. “Robin thinks Validar is here.”

Gaius raised a brow at Robin, toying with the stick of his candy. “Validar is like five hundred miles away Bubbles. He’s not wandering around here.”

Robin felt sick. “I--I’m not sure what happened…” He held onto Chrom’s arm like an anchor while getting the preceding events straight in his head. “I think...I think Validar just spoke to me.”

“Ya mean like…” Gaius made a few vague gestures, ending with one circling his ear like Robin was cuckoo. “Like that?”

Robin glowered. “No, not like I’m crazy. Like he’s a powerful sorcerer and he just messed with my mind.”

Chrom was horrified. “That’s not...how can he do that? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine now, I just…” Robin heaved a sigh. “I think he was able to do that because we share the same blood.”

Gaius puckered an amazed whistled. “Ya mean you’re his son?” 

Chrom instantly paled. “No you’re not Robin. He was just messing with you, IF that was even him at all.” Robin wanted to believe Chrom but there was no way of knowing if Validar was actually lying. He was more concerned that his head had just been a Grimleal playground.

“Actually,” Gaius began, tapping a finger to his chin. “It makes sense if ya think about it.”

“What?” Two incredulous stares rounded on Gaius. Robin didn’t want it to make sense and clearly Chrom thought the idea was madness.

Gaius shrugged and calmly explained, “I mean...Robin’s from Plegia. Anyone can see that. And he knows stuff.”

“So knowing “stuff” makes me his son?” Robin gaped.

Gaius shook his head. “Not just mundane stuff. You know things that only an insanely educated person would know. No peasant gets that kind of schooling, not even nobility. You were trained at a very young age for a very long time to learn all the things you know. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out you’re the Plegian prince.” He casually withdrew the lollipop from his mouth, cracking it between his teeth. “Plus you do kinda look like him.”

“Okay that is a flat out lie,” Chrom fumed. “Robin looks nothing like Validar!”

Gaius smirked, cheekily adding, “Okay I’ll give you that one. You must take after your mother Bubbles.”

Robin couldn't deny Gaius’ reasoning. “Loath as I am to say it...I did feel a strange connection between us. Me and the disembodied voice of Validar.”

“No Robin, it’s a trick. There is no way--”

“Blue,” Gaius interrupted softly. “I think we should move this back to camp.” The thief intently watched the woods, fingers dancing on the hilts of his daggers. “We already fired up enough ruckus I think Walhart might be on his way by now.”

Robin nodded, gripping Chrom’s hand. “He’s right. Let’s go.”

Chrom, pale as a sheet, swallowed slowly and nodded. They followed Gaius’ roundabout path back to camp.

When they reached the Shepherd’s small campfires, Gaius faced them. “I’m gonna do one more round just to make sure no one followed us. You two get nice and cozy...oh wait. You got the kiddos in your tent,” Gaius looked like he wanted to laugh until the sun rose. He settled for a secretive grin then gave a sloppy salute and slinked back into the woods. Robin wondered if that man ever slept or if he was too wired on sugar to even think about closing his eyes.

Chrom led Robin back to their tent. “We should talk in the morning,” he said lowly.

Morning was only a few hours away and with the sun came a long march south. There wouldn’t be time for the things Robin wanted to say. So when they both slipped quietly into bed Robin drew the covers around them and snuggled close. “I have something to tell you,” he murmured, lips almost touching. 

Chrom searched Robin’s expression but he was giving nothing away. “I really hope it’s nothing worse than what I already know.”

Robin appreciated the attempted humor and counted it as one of the many reasons he loved Chrom. “No, nothing like that. I wanted to say that if I really am a prince...then I’m your equal.” It was a foolish idea but Robin was suddenly struck by inspiration. Validar’s attempted coercion had sent a very different kind of message to Robin, one that Validar probably hadn’t expected at all:

Robin was himself before he was any man’s son. 

So even though they might be doomed servants of Naga, he and Chrom were always striving towards peace no matter what. That was simply who they were. 

“Robin…you were more than my equal well before any of this ever happened.”

Impossibly Robin drew closer. “No, what I mean is I’m your societal equal. We’re both royalty.”

“Okay...no idea where you’re going with this.”

Robin made certain his entire attention, his entire being, zeroed in on Chrom. “If I’m a Plegian prince then we can potentially bring peace between our nations.”

“We can’t be certain you’re Validar’s son Robin. And besides--”

Robin gently shushed Chrom with a finger to his lips. “If it’s true then we can do something that’s never been done before. We can politically unite our countries.”

The shock on Chrom’s face told Robin he was finally understanding. “You mean…a marriage of state?”

Robin nodded. If there was one good thing that could possibly come from their current situation it would be a union between two historically opposing nations. Regardless of what came of Grima’s revival and Robin’s place in the Plegian royal tree, he was certain this was a wonderful chance to start something good. And as silly as it seemed Robin knew this one idea was the only thing getting him through the rest of their Valm campaign.

Chrom’s elation was palpable. “In that case part of me is actually hoping it’s true.” He kissed Robin, then encouraged, “So are you asking?”

“I always had the impression you were going to be the one,” Robin jested quietly, not wanting to wake Morgan and Lucina. “Besides I don’t have a ring.”

Chrom didn’t speak as he rifled through a rucksack on the floor beside their cot. He took nearly everything out of the bag until he found whatever it was he was looking for. He rejoined Robin beneath the covers and held up his find.

Robin nearly laughed aloud. “Is that...a button?”

Chrom said nothing as he took a piece of plaited leather cord and threaded the golden button.

“And it has Ylisse’s crest,” Robin noted fondly as he watched Chrom make a tiny knot. When he finished neither said anything. A moment in time, a slice of heaven and Robin’s finger was adorned with a button from Chrom’s military coat. It was fitting, in a way.

Then Chrom announced, “Just to be clear, this has nothing to do with you possibly being Validar’s son. Prince or not, you are simply the person I want to spend the rest of my days with. For me there is no other reason.”

“I know,” Robin smiled, thumb sliding along the top of the button. It didn’t feel as strange as he thought it would. 

“I’m also going to tell everyone that it was you who proposed to me,” Chrom insisted, a hint of pride in his words. Robin couldn't see Chrom very well but the rich timber of his words implied he was practically _glowing_. 

Robin agreed that he was was technically the one who proposed. “True as that may be, that’s not very believable if you don’t have a ring.”

That’s when Chrom shifted again and dragged the tactician’s coat out of Robin’s pack. He sat up in the cot, dangerously close to plucking off one of the bottom buttons. Robin stopped him. “Chrom no...that’s...it’s not--” Robin didn’t want to use one of those as an engagement ring for Chrom. Those buttons bore a Plegian crest, possibly something used by the Grimleal and stood for everything they warred against. It directly opposed the peace-born crest of the Ylisse royal family. Defiantly Chrom bit through the thread and released the button from the coat. He made another button ring and handed it to Robin.

Robin rolled the makeshift ring in his hand, unwilling to do what Chrom wanted. It wasn’t _right_ to use something linked to Grima as an outward sign of their bond.

“I’m going to think you were all talk and actually don’t want to marry me,” Chrom tested.

“Chrom,” Robin began soberly. “This isn’t right.”

“It is,” Chrom insisted softly. “It’s a part of you, I want to show you that I love every part. There is nothing in your history which frightens me and nothing in your future that I don’t want to share. We are two halves of a whole Robin. And whether we are two princes from conflicting nations or two soldiers destined for hardship, I want to take every step with you at my side.”

Robin’s cheeks flushed so hot he was amazed he didn’t set the pillow on fire. “Okay then, you make a good point,” he conceded, grinning like a love-struck boy. He took the ring and placed it on Chrom’s finger, the traditionally significant one that outwardly told the rest of the world that he was unavailable. Robin beamed despite his prior misgivings.

“There, officially engaged as far as I’m concerned,” Chrom snuggled into his pillow with a contented sigh.

“That’s it? Nothing to seal the deal?”

Chrom opened one eye. “With our children three feet away?”

Robin swatted him playfully. “You know what I mean.” He leaned forward and quietly kissed Chrom, ended with a gentle smack. Then Robin buried his face in Chrom’s chest, arms wrapped around his personal furnace in human form. They sighed in unison and within minutes Robin found sleep. For those few blissful moments before drifting off he couldn't help but rub the button on his finger. It was silly that a household object and a piece of leather could make him so happy but it did. It was an outward symbol of their bond, and though meaningless on its own it meant everything when given with such devotion and love.

Thoughts about Validar’s newfound ability to communicate with Robin were pushed into the recesses of his mind, surmounted by an ordinary golden button wrapped firmly around his finger.


	5. Scattered Snow

A fine layer of fresh snow blanketed the woods the morning of the Shepherd’s march to Fort Steiger. The sky was steel and the air biting; Robin wore an extra layer of underclothes and still he was cold. The only warmth he felt was in his chest whenever he caught the golden glint of his makeshift ring in the corner of his eye. That’s where his current conversation had veered the moment Gaius, observant as ever, noticed Robin’s newest accessory.

“Marriage of State? No way," Gaius laughed.

Robin rode a chipper mount beside Gaius, “That's what we're telling Senior Adviser Villus when we get back," Robin told him. No one else knew Robin might be Validar’s son and Plegia’s prince, but the only people around him were trusted friends. Sooner or later they would all know.

Gaius grinned like a cat. "Now I really hope we survive...I have to see this."

Robin raised an eyebrow. “You mean you weren't hoping for survival before?”

Gaius shrugged. “Well I mean, I’ll always survive. Just wasn't sure about all of you. Some of us don't charge to the front line like heroes in a historical drama."

He was talking about Chrom. "Yeah...but you can't tell him not to."

"We can always count on ‘ol Blue...and you too Bubbles." Gaius disguised his praise beneath a thin veneer of nonchalance, lollipop darting between his lips from one side of his mouth to the other.

“Thanks Gaius.” Robin flashed a bright smile. “We can always count on you too.”

Gaius harrumphed. “Trusting a thief? You two got issues.” He smiled despite the sarcastic tone of his voice. “I better go see what’s happening behind us. You should join your husband-to-be at the front.”

Gaius had already rounded his mount and trotted towards the back of the army procession before Robin responded, “We trust you more than you can possibly know, friend.” Then he took Gaius’ advice and joined Chrom at the head of the march. Morgan was there too, words cascading like a verbal waterfall. Lucina rode next to them on a dark-maned horse trying to hide a smile.

“There’s an awful lot of chatter up here considering we’re going to assault a heavily defended fortress in a few hours,” Robin commented.

Morgan’s laughter somehow made the grey sky and snow-laden ground feel warm and comforting. “Dad! You have GOT to hear what Chrom just said.”

Chrom flailed his hands before catching the reins of his mount. “Apparently I still have to teach you the finer points of discretion,” Chrom muttered.

Morgan ignored him. “It was REALLY funny.”

“I bet,” Robin gave Chrom a pointed look. Chrom was suddenly captivated by something on the path in front of them.

“Well I remember exactly what he said,” Morgan claimed, preparing to announce it to the world. Lucina deftly maneuvered her horse alongside Morgan’s and saved Chrom from whatever embarrassing revelation Morgan was about to divulge.

“Hey you know that book you told me about? Well Miriel loaned it to me, I’m on chapter five right now but there’s one thing that doesn’t make sense.”

Instantly Morgan’s attention turned to Lucina. “Wait really? Already? It was all pretty easy until chapter fifteen..”

Lucina rolled her eyes. “Well I don’t study ancient astronomy for fun like some people. So can you help me with Anrina’s mathematical formula for spherical harmonies?”

Morgan was delighted by the prospect. “Of course! Once you understand the formula lots of things make sense…” Lucina’s eyes met Chrom, who breathed a relieved sigh and sent her a silent thank you.

Once the children fell back a few lengths Robin and Chrom trotted side-by-side at an even pace. Chrom cleared his throat. “It was nothing bad, in case you were wondering.”

Robin shook his head. “I’m more curious about how you and Morgan bonded to quickly. I have never seen you take to someone so fast. Well..” Robin was about to add ‘not since you found me’ but that was implied.

Chrom responded with a fond smile. “He’s so much like you. I just...I know we can’t have children of our own but I feel like we already do. Lucina is my blood and heir, I couldn’t ask for a more capable, courageous daughter. And then there’s Morgan...he’s your son Robin whether you want to admit it or not. Frankly I don’t see what he inherited from his mother because he’s your spitting image.”

The more time Robin spent with Morgan the harder it became to deny the boy was his son through and through. He was also warming to the idea, especially after learning that Morgan had been used by a version of Robin who accepted Grima’s power. It was a powerful lesson and Robin was determined not to fail this time around. Morgan was becoming an irreplaceable member of their family and Chrom knew it.

“There’s nothing I want more than this,” Chrom spoke. “Well, only one thing is missing.”

Robin turned to him, determined. “We will have our peace Chrom.”

“I hope so. I just wish I could keep our children away from the battlefield.”

Robin knew as well as Chrom that they didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Their children were adamant members of the Ylissean vanguard and skilled enough to have earned their ranks. Lucina wielded the future version of Chrom’s legendary blade with the same mastery as Chrom, and Morgan was an extremely talented mage. Just like Robin.

“They’re here to secure a peaceful future too. But I agree...I wish they were in Ylisse right now.”

As they continued along the snow shrouded road the trees alongside crowded what little they could see of the forest. Soon they rode between two walls of dense pines, it was the perfect cover for ambushing archers and mages. Robin met Chrom’s concerned eyes but they didn’t have any other choice, the Imperial road was the only way to move their cavalry to Fort Steiger.

Though the cloudy sky made it nearly impossible to tell the time of day, Robin assumed they approached the fortress late morning. A great white sheet spread out before them, under which lay the road they were using. It was a sign that no one had reinforced the garrison from this side since last night. Clearly the woman commanding troops within Fort Steiger was confident about her defenses. 

Good.

Robin and Chrom held their positions while the rest of the army caught up. “For once I think we’re taking a cue from your playbook,” Robin commented. “From our intel we know the commanding general Pheros is one of Walhart’s newest officers but that doesn’t make her any less loyal to his cause. Given the positioning of her troops inside the fort we’re going for a swift, surgical strike right in the heart.”

“So a smaller unit,” Chrom noted. “Only the very best.”

“When Gaius tells us everyone is accounted for we move into formation and march forward. The remaining army will be stationed in the woods along the roads to keep us informed of any reinforcements from the outside.”

Chrom vibrated with energy. “Hey you know me. Charging right into the mix is my specialty.”

“We do it my way,” Robin stated, brooking no debate about how he would like combat to proceed.

“Anything you wish my love,” was Chrom’s cheeky response.

Once the Shepherds were in position Robin met with Flavia and Basilio, the Regna Ferox Khans who had eagerly joined them on their journey to vanquish the Conqueror. Flavia was concerned about the walls and Basilio was more worried about the number of troops inside but Robin reassured them both that his plan counted both concerns.

“You’ve taken us this far,” Flavia commented, slapping Robin on the shoulder. He tried not to wince at the force behind her friendly blow. “I’ve never seen a better tactician on the field.”

“Not many can strategize like you,” Basilio praised Robin. “I’m trusting everything to that brain of yours.”

“No pressure there,” Robin half-heartedly joked. He was a bit anxious because directly assaulting a defended garrison was the worst position to take but he knew everything about Fort Steiger, including weaknesses in its bulwark and the favored weapons of the troops inside. He knew which classes to attack with and where to position them.

Basilio guffawed and slapped Robin on the other shoulder. It stung just as much as Flavia’s blow. “Things are gonna get hairy in there but there’s no one I would rather have watchin’ our backs.”

“Agreed,” Chrom chimed in, marching up the them. “Everything’s ready.”

Three pairs of eyes met Robin’s and he shouldered their expectations with a confident nod. “In that case let’s go.”

Chrom gave the signal to the Shepherds, Flavia and Basilio maneuvered their Feroxi troops, and Princess Say’ri joined the frontlines as the assault on Fort Steiger officially commenced.

* * * * * * * * *

Walhart’s tactician was a slimy, vexing worm. There were other words Robin wanted to loose from his tongue but he was too angry to release them. Excellus was the worm’s name and he played every dirty trick in the book, turning the art of tactical warfare into an inelegant mess of deplorable war crimes. The Shepherd’s occupied Fort Steiger, general Pheros was dead, but they were currently surrounded by enemy forces--a Valmese resistance united by fear and torture. Robin’s plan delivered victory within the fortress walls but now lay in tatters as Chrom and the Feroxi Kahn's anxiously marshaled their remaining forces. The Ylissean units which had remained outside during battle scattered into the woods, a contingency plan placed by Robin if he failed capturing Fort Steiger. What he couldn’t have anticipated was an army of turncoat dynasts led by Walhart’s odious tactician surrounding them. Before her death, general Pheros claimed they only followed him out of panic for the welfare of their families, that they were no more loyal to Walhart than they were to each other. An army of opposing families united by fear--surely not an enemy worthy of Robin’s stratagems unless that army was manipulated like a puppet by a despicable man like Excellus.

They had little time to debate their next course of action, so Robin made the call.

“We need to leave now,” he instructed Chrom, Flavia and Basilio. Instinct told Robin that Walhart and his remaining generals were likely marching their way. Displaced and surrounded, the Shepherds made easy targets.

Flavia threw up her hands. “Have you lost your wits, we’re trapped here!’

“Not yet,” Robin reminded. “Surrounded but not completely without options. If what Pheros said was true, then the dynasts gathered outside will only put up token resistance. They betray us and Princess Say’ri out of fear of the empire, not loyalty.”

A grim shadow overtook Chrom. “Things don’t look good with us on the run like this. How are we going to turn the tide this time? We’re no match for Walhart’s entire contingent.”

“Then we strike at either Walhart or his high general Yen’fay before they join forces,” Robin announced. He met each shocked gaze with the confidence of a man who was used to defying expectations. And surpassing them.

“Our armies are dispersed! We don’t have time to gather and take on one before they both descend upon us,” Flavia argued.

“You’re right,” Robin revealed calmly. “That’s why we are going after both.”

“Didn’t you hear her boy? We are already divided and you wish to further divide us? We couldn't defeat Walhart’s force straight on even if we doubled our numbers.” Basilio breathed heavily, his usual composure unearthed by their current situation. He wasn't the only one. Everyone around Robin looked at him like he was finally cracking under the pressure. The only people who stood beside him with any hope were Chrom, Morgan and Lucina. Morgan actually backed Robin’s plan.

“I see what you’re doing!” he exclaimed. “We meet them simultaneously so one can be distracted long enough for us to defeat the other!”

Robin ruffled Morgan’s hair. “That’s my boy.”

Basilio and Flavia exchanged nonplussed glances. “It’s suicide,” Flavia said at last. “There’s no way the smaller force can win, no matter the strategy.”

“And that’s the crux of it,” Robin said lowly. “We are going to spend lives in order to buy time. It’s the only way.”

“Robin…” Chrom began, but Robin cut him off. 

“I know Chrom. I _know_ ,but this is what I do. I look at our options and choose the one with the best chance at saving the most lives and putting us in a favorable position. The only question is: who leads the unit against Walhart?”

“It has to be someone of unparalleled skill and reckless bravery,” Chrom added. 

“I hate to be the bearer of more bad news but Walhart’s forces are within sight,” Lucina shouted suddenly. A heaving soldier stood beside her, having crossed enemy lines in order to deliver the message.

“I’m going to Walhart then,” Basilio declared, unfaltering. “I will take the Feroxi soldiers and meet him along the road.” He paused, adding dramatically, “You better make up a damn good song about me.”

As much as Robin wanted to save Basilio from a hopeless battle he also knew it was their only option. “Remember: just stall him. You don’t have to make a dent in his numbers.”

There was no more time to deliberate the matter. The Shepherd’s fled east of Fort Steiger while Basilio, Flavia and their Feroxi cohort gathered in the north. They were to use the dense woods as cover for an ambush but even as Robin said it he knew the Feroxi force would suffer heavy casualties. They were front-line fighters, barbarians and swordsmen who didn’t engage in guerrilla tactics. That was just not a part of their cultural mentality. Still, Robin implored Basilio to play it safe and run strike tactics as long as possible. 

“Hit ‘em and flee, then do it again. Got it.” Basilio hefted his impossibly large axe over one shoulder and struck a heroic pose, wide grin stretching his lips. “I’m kinda looking forward to taking a whack at Walhart.” 

Flavia stood next to her partner. “And I’m going with you to make sure that dumb bald head of yours stays on your shoulders.”

The west Kahn didn’t argue with her, if anything he appeared relieved. Chrom and Robin took time to thank them with a Feroxi arm grip and a Ylissean salute. Basilio’s expression turned fierce and he shouted a shivering command to his small band. Just as they turned north, Basilio suddenly halted and turned back to Chrom. “Let me see the Fire Emblem.”

Chrom was confused but complied and showed Basilio the shield with two sacred stones mounted on its front. The Feroxi general scratched his chin, suffering an internal debate before taking out a round stone from his hip bag. “You might need this, in case I don’t come back.” 

“Gules…” Robin breathed. “You had it all this time?”

Basilio scratched his head. “Yeah well, I like it. I’ve always carried it with me for as long as I can remember for good luck. I’m not sure it’s up to the task this time, and if Walhart gets his grubby hands on it then--” He placed the stone into one of the empty sockets. “I have no idea if it goes there, I just wanted to be the one to do it.”

Flavia punched his arm. “You dunce! Didn’t you know Chrom needed it?”

“Yeah yeah, I knew. I just wanted to hold onto it a little longer.”

“Well I’m your good luck charm now, oaf. You better not forget it!”

Chrom and Robin bid farewell to the Khans, watching them walk away for what Robin hoped wasn’t the last time. “I’ve never met a pair quite like those two.”

“They have the hearts of heroes.”

“They’re coming back,” Robin decreed. “Flavia will make sure of that.”

With hope in their hearts Chrom and Robin headed east to meet with the bulk of their remaining army. If they had any hope of successfully challenging Yen’fay they needed an actionable plan as quickly as possible. News of the Valmese general’s location grew in waves as he steadily advanced, some scouts saying his army was splitting to the west and others claiming they were like an arrow right down imperial road. Robin tried to make sense of the conflicting reports and soon realized Yen’fay was marching with another contingent of dynasts. Ones that were loyal to him, according to Say’ri.

“These are no dogs on a leash like the last group,” she claimed. “They are wholly loyal to my brother, the rightful ruler of Chon’sin.”

Robin gazed at the map spread out before him, worry marring his brow. More loyalists was a big problem, especially when he was dividing Ylisse’s forces. Chrom, Lucina and Morgan stood beside him under a quickly erected canopy where they had a small table with a map of Valm spread from corner to corner. Snow piled silently above them and weighted the branches of surrounding trees.

“I say we take on Yen’fay directly and forget the dynasts. If we can take out the general then we will weaken their resolve.” Chrom said, pointing to a river cutting across the road. “This might be enough to divide them and give us time.”

Robin looked at Chrom’s plan and didn’t think it was solid enough to avoid a confrontation with Yen’fay’s army reinforced by the dynasts. Nothing but woods and rivers around them, neither of which Robin was comfortable using as a battleground. He looked towards the center of Valm not far from them and noticed a cone-shaped mountain. “Whats this?” he asked Say’ri.

She looked at the map. “‘Tis Valm’s only volcano, Demon’s Ingle. They say a demon is sealed inside. No one dares set foot on the mountain lest they anger what sleeps there.”

Perhaps Valmese soldiers would hesitate to set foot there but Ylissean soldiers had no such superstitions. “Is it active?”

“Aye, very much so. If we head east we should start to see this snow melting.”

Chrom eyed Robin, silent understanding passing between them. “That’s where we lead Yen’fay,” Chrom stated aloud, gaze still locked onto Robin.

Say’ri gawked. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

Despite the desperate state of their position, Robin grinned. “I’m saying your opportunistic former friends wouldn’t dare risk following us. And we can use the heat as barriers, to limit how your brother’s army approaches.”

She hummed thoughtfully, fully considering Robin’s and Chrom’s proposition. “‘Tis a strange place to do battle but I see its merits. A larger army will have no more advantage than a smaller one.” The princess nodded once. “With me in your ranks I have a feeling Yen’fay will follow. Even to a place such as Demon’s Ingle.”

“You never told us why your brother devoted himself to Walhart,” Robin prompted. He had always wondered why Chon’sin’s prince joined forces with the man who so ruthlessly attacked them. Say’ri’s puzzled expression told him she didn’t know the reason either.

“One day he simply turned on us. I was able to flee with a handful of soldiers and meet with others of the rebellion but…” she turned away. “To this day I do not know why.”

She didn’t appear interested in discussing the matter further so Robin gave the order and Chrom rallied the Shepherds. Even if Yen’fay didn’t take Say’ri’s bait Robin knew he would follow the trail of their army. News of a resistance mounting against Walhart’s force in the north probably had reached Yen’fay by now and with little worry over the strength of his Ylissean enemy-given the current state of their forces-Robin was certain he would follow the Shepherds. Even onto the smoking slopes of an active volcano. He hoped those troublesome dynasts were a superstitious lot and lacking the stubborn pride that would lead Yen’fay to Demon’s Ingle.

Within the hour Chrom mobilized the Shepherds and they moved out. After marching for a few leagues the cloudy skies took on a darker, dirtier hue.

“Smoke,” Lucina noted. “And there is no snow on the ground here.”

“Aye Lady, that’s Demon’s Ingle. I have only viewed it from afar.”

“Well get ready for an up close and personal look at it. Let’s find a good position to wait for Yen’fay.”

“It’s getting dark Robin. We don’t want to navigate that mountain without daylight,” Chrom cautioned.

Robin knew, but he was waiting for a signal. There was a scout half a league south with a thunder tome. When Yen’fay’s army crested the hills to the south Robin would know, then it was about an hour before they intercepted. They were cutting it close and Robin worried Valm’s army might decide to camp just beyond the hills putting the Shepherds in the worst position possible: facing Walhart from the north and Yen’fay from the south.

“Any word from Basilio?” Robin asked Chrom as he deliberated his next move.

“Last I heard they engaged Walhart’s army. Haven't heard anything since.”

“Let’s hope the Feroxi kept them busy long enough to do this.”

A bolt of lightning split the grey skies for only a moment but it was enough for Robin’s keen eyes to catch. “He’s coming.”

Everyone within earshot nodded, grim determination etched onto their faces. This was going to be their toughest battle yet but Robin was confident in his plan and Basilio’s bravery. They were going to put a stop to Walhart’s gears of war long enough to free the subjugated countries beneath his armored boots.

They were going to win because Walhart was only a man. How could they hope to defeat a god if they lost to one man and his mortal army? There was so much more at stake than Valm and Ylisse. Life as Robin knew it balanced on a razor’s edge, the tooth of a destructive dragon, and not a man who boasted of his conquests or a sorcerer who lived in shadow were going to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going into detail about the battles since we all know how they went. I'm using some canon plot to set up scenes and changing other plot lines (such as Basilio giving Chrom Gules before he goes into battle. I think it's sort of dumb he kept it a secret so long anyway...). I'm trying to keep this story re-imagined but not straying far from the actual events of the game. Anyway, I'm desperately trying to wrap up the Valm campaign so we can get to the good stuff :)


	6. Solstice of Fire (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate my resurrection to solisaureus who drew me the most amazing fanart for the prequel to this fic "The Rook's Endgame." You are amazing and thank you so much! You really inspired me to finish this one!  
> https://twitter.com/tacticalbird/status/856900115164012544

Princess Say’ri never discovered why her brother betrayed Chon’sin and aided Walhart. His reasons died with him on the slopes of Demon’s Ingle. Stained with ash, sweat and utterly spent, Robin and Chrom stood beside Yen’fay’s corpse and watched Say’ri shed all of her pent up tears. The battle was hard fought, harder won, and Robin felt nothing but sadness over their narrow victory. Good men were dead, their Feroxi friends still unaccounted for and Robin didn’t know how he was going to pull another win from their remaining force.

The dynasts had refused to set foot on the volcano, just as Robin predicted, and when news of Yen’fay’s defeat reached them they fled northwest. Now Robin looked above his exhausted army to the ashen sun sinking behind Valm’s great pine forest and he knew they didn’t have long to make it off the treacherous slopes of the volcano. Chrom was of similar mindset, promptly gathering their company with a few sharp signals and tired runners. The army slowly descended the volcano, marching through unavoidable walls of smoke and fumes that made them so ill many stopped to violently retch what little remained in their starved bellies. Both Robin and Chrom managed to keep their composure, squeezing their joined hands whenever one had the urge to stop and give in to nausea. 

By the time the Shepherds reached a suitable place to camp the sky was an unwelcoming moonless void. Their boots crunched through packed snow as the cloistering heat of Demon’s Ingle faded into the black behind them. Chrom and Robin quickly organized trauma stations for the injured, sleeping tents, and fire pits with cast-iron pots of boiled beans. Even after fighting in the sweltering heat of a volcanic landscape the hot food was comforting as they huddled between snow drifts and icicle-adorned pine limbs. Morgan helped organize the camp as much as he could before sleep claimed him while propped uncomfortably against a log, half-eaten meal forgotten in his exhaustion. Chrom wordlessly lifted Morgan into his arms and put him to bed. When he returned to Robin’s place beside a guttering fire he finished the cold beans Morgan had left. 

Robin was the first to break a long-standing silence. “Still no word from Basilio and Flavia?”

Chrom shook his head and swallowed the last spoonful of food. “No...nothing. Not even a messenger hawk.”

Hearing nothing at all made Robin nervous. Chrom grabbed his hand and with a furtive kiss he reassured, “They did exactly what we needed: bought us time enough to defeat Yen’fay. Today we are victorious.”

“It doesn't feel like much of a victory,” Robin mused. “But you’re right. All that’s left now is to march on Valm castle.” They had taken out three of Walhart’s generals, one of which had been almost as much of a threat as the Conqueror himself. They had successfully splintered Walhart’s enormous army into smaller, beatable forces and taken them one at a time. Nothing suggested Walhart’s brigade was moving past Fort Steiger which implied they planned on regrouping with the emperor himself at Valm Castle. Robin would have made the same move had their positions been reverse.

Chrom briefly looked around them. The Shepherds didn't look like much, certainly not an army capable of assaulting a heavily fortified castle. “Maybe tomorrow we will regroup with the Feroxi’s.”

“Maybe. If not, I have a plan.”

Chrom breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank the gods. I love it when I hear those four little words from your lips.”

“It’s not perfect,” Robin admitted. “And it’s risky.” Though when were his plans not risky? Perilous plans were inevitable burdens for a perpetual underdog.

Chrom turned to Robin. “You have brought us so far, through so much peril and despair. And even if the next battle is to be our last I gladly go into the fray with you at my side.”

“I have no intention of giving up yet,” Robin told him. “Our true enemies are back in Plegia. This is but a small ripple from the great wave that looms across the sea.”

“Has Validar spoken to you again?” Chrom asked carefully, voice almost as quiet as the drifting snow.

Robin shook his head. “No, but his presence reminded me of how far the reach of the Grimleal is. Even here we are not safe from their machinations.”

“Do you think they could have contacted Walhart? Perhaps his sudden ambition is a part of their influence?”

Chrom’s words were something Robin had considered many times. “Maybe, but from our dealings with his various generals I don’t really see it. I think Walhart is a man on a mission much like us, and he is doing what he thinks is right.”

“It’s a pity we can’t join forces against Grima.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing as we fought Yen’fay…”

“Well...our mission here is nearly over. We downsized Walhart’s army and Valm’s sacred stone is likely within its castle walls. Princess Say’ri said their sacred stone Vert was taken when Chon’sin was defeated. Our destiny lies on the other side of this forest, then onto Plegia.” Chrom had a far-away look in his eyes. Robin knew that after they seized the final stone for the Fire Emblem Chrom was going to perform Naga’s Ritual. Almost nothing frightened him more than the possibility of losing Chrom, but Chrom was immovable on that point. Robin considered his own destiny, a Fell brand that possibly held the power to defeat Grima according to Lady Tiki. Everything moved them towards a shared destiny, one Robin hoped wasn’t as dire as it appeared.

The air around them felt heavy so Robin huffed lightly, “Right now I hope our destiny collides with a nice, hot bath.”

Chrom grinned. “Me too. Maybe we can squeeze that in before Plegia.”

Robin joked, “I’m sure Validar wouldn’t mind waiting for us to freshen up a bit.”

“He looks like a guy who bathes regularly.”

“Just hopefully not in the blood of Grimleal virgins,” Robin added.

They exchanged words until most of the camp had settled for the night. Gaius and his crew were on rotations already--only Chrom and Robin still sat by their fire huddled for warmth. “I suppose we should turn in as well,” Robin advised, an eye-tearing yawn escaping. Chrom nodded and suffocated the fire with a heap of snow. They retired to a tent, gingerly stepping over the sleeping bodies of Morgan, Lucina and a host of others before finding two sleeping rolls on the far side. The tent was cramped but their closeness helped stave off the bitter cold.

“We only get a few hours...we’re marching before daylight,” Robin glumly reminded. He fantasized about sleeping for days, perhaps an entire week, but no one was getting much rest before they freed Valm from the Conqueror. Robin ached everywhere, covered in an itchy film of stale sweat and grime, and had no time to process their narrow victory before being swept into another harrowing battle. Their success hinged on Robin’s tactical prowess and the Shepherds’ grit, and with Walhart’s expansive army whittled into his most loyal contingent Robin knew the final battle would test their mettle like never before.

Despite the constant stream of internal deliberation, statistical calculations and data analyses running through Robin’s head, fatigue battered away that chatter in the firm embrace of Chrom, who sweetly kissed his forehead moments before sleep claimed him.

* * * * * * *

A drizzling morning brought dire news: Basilio was dead. Flavia and the remaining Feroxi soldiers met with Robin and Chrom along the road, their numbers considerably thinned and worn. It was Walhart himself who had defeated Basilio and after Flavia’s disheartening news Lucina came to Chrom and Robin in tears.

“I warned him,” she sobbed. “In my future Basilio died, most likely from the same confrontation with Walhart.” Chrom tried to comfort her but she insisted Basilio’s death was her fault, that she should have tried harder to stop him.

“We know from experience that the future is uncertain,” Robin told her, “Besides, nothing would have stopped Basilio from confronting Walhart in order to help us defeat Yen’fay.”

“That oaf had the soul of a warrior and a heart the size of Mount Khadein,” Flavia added, stoic despite the overwhelming sadness in her eyes. “He would have gone no matter what you said.”

Lucina remained distraught but Chrom spent the entire day at her side offering fatherly comfort and loving words. Robin rode beside Morgan as Flavia retreated to the back--ostensibly to help Gaius watch their tails. Robin knew it was because she didn’t want anyone to see her cry.

“Dad...what does Walhart want?” Morgan asked innocently, though the weight of his query was far from innocent.

Robin looked at his hands gripping the reins of his mount. “If I had to guess, I would say he wants to unite Valm.”

“He’s killed so many of its people...how could he possibly want to unite them?”

“He eliminated those resistances to create a stronger presence, a stronger front. That’s why warlords defeat and absorb smaller tribes. That’s how a nation's power grows. People are not won easily without a show of force, and even then few go quietly.” Robin had considered negotiating with Walhart in the beginning until they rescued Princess Say’ri. Her words had quickly changed his mind. “Many leaders surrender simply to save their subjects, oftentimes knowing their own lives are forfeit.”

“Is that what Yen’fay did?” Morgan asked, eyes darting towards Say’ri riding silently on a grey horse.  
Robin frowned. “Yen’fay’s behavior was unexpected. With his leadership skills and support of the dynasts they could have put up quite a challenge for Walhart. I’m not even certain if Walhart would have won those battles. Normally a leader surrenders when they have no chance against their foe. Yen’fay stood a chance.”

“Perhaps he just wanted to protect Princess Say’ri. She was spared from Walhart after all.”

“...perhaps. No one will ever know for certain though.”

Morgan was silent for a long time. Long enough for Robin to think Morgan had nothing more to say despite his anxious frown. It was nearly noon when they neared the forest’s edge and could see the approach of the castle in the distance, great red gates looming above a flat landscape. Robin halted their contingent and sent the soldier behind them to fetch Gaius, then waited under the boughs of a pine marking the forest’s invisible boundary. That’s when Morgan spoke again.

“Something’s been bothering me since the dynasts fled Demon’s Ingle.” Morgan pulled his horse closer to Robin. “Why does Walhart want the Fire Emblem stones? I mean, he specifically took the one from Chon’sin and tried to go after Lady Tiki for hers. And you assumed he was going to target Ylisse for the others.”

“The Fire Emblem represents power. That’s exactly why Walhart wants it.”

“Is it? It doesn’t mean anything unless you have the Falchion right?”

Robin raised his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting Walhart has ulterior motives?”

Morgan worried his lip. “I mean...I’m not questioning your thought process but I think it’s really odd. The Fire Emblem is used to fight Grima. There are two reasons someone wants it: To awaken the true power of the Falchion or to destroy any hope against Grima.”

“Perhaps Walhart doesn’t know that,” Robin suggested. “We know nothing about his past.”

“Well then maybe someone is manipulating him.”

Robin mulled over Morgan’s words. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he thinks of the Fire Emblem as an object of divine power, a symbol he can use to legitimize his conquests.” 

Morgan didn’t appear mollified by Robin's interpretation. “All I know is my...other father, the other you...thinks of everything. And his biggest drive was to find the Fire Emblem and destroy Naga’s chosen. That was everything to him. Something like this, an unknown man conquering all of these nations and stealing stones for the Fire Emblem, it reeks of him. Manipulating the dynasts by holding their families hostage, tearing a continent apart trying to find the stones...he would have done all of these things without a second thought.”

Something inside Robin shuddered at the thought of Grima’s reach being so encompassing. He was suddenly struck with the possibility that his future self, the one who gave into the Fell Dragon’s whispered power was already outmaneuvering him. But that was silly wasn’t it? That man lived in the future, a future that might not exist at all once they defeat Walhart and recover the Fire Emblem stones. “That man isn’t here Morgan, and with any luck we can make sure he never comes to pass.”

“I’m here aren’t I? And Lucina too. Nothing’s impossible for that man.” Morgan released a bitter sigh. “I’m sorry it’s just...I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.”

Robin sidled closer to Morgan and placed a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. “Believe me Morgan, I feel the same way. Ever since you told me that I am Grima’s vessel nothing has felt right. But right now isn’t the time to question our enemy’s motives. Now is the time to marshal our forces and finish what we started.” Robin was pleased by the strength of his words and the visceral conviction in them. What he couldn’t voice was how desperate their next battle was going to be, how likely they could fail and how much he dreaded the tactics of Walhart’s odious tactician Excellus. Robin knew that slimy worm had something up his sleeve and he had to figure out what it was as soon as possible.

Gaius finally turned up and Robin requested his scouts to run the perimeter of the field in front of them searching for soldiers hidden along the edge of the forest and cavalry traps. Gaius nodded, snapping his reins before Robin’s words stopped him. “I have something else, if you're up for it.”

Gaius’ eyebrow quirked, crooked smile appearing around a cherry lolli. “I’m always up for it Bubbles.”

Robin heard Chrom break the march for a much needed rest and refuel, then Robin patted Morgan’s mount. “You should rest her. We need them in top shape for the next encounter.” The boy nodded, cheerful enthusiasm abandoned to the somber atmosphere of battle preparations, and slid from his horse. Wordlessly Robin guided Gaius away from the group, tucking behind a thick stand of trees.

“So, what’s with all the secrecy Bubbles?”

Robin smirked. “You’re asking me about keeping secrets? I’m surprised at you.”

Gaius cracked the candy in his mouth before throwing the used stick in the brush. “You have a point there. So what do ya need?”

“I need you to plant a seed.”

“Well that’s not hard,” Gaius shrugged, candy still crunching loudly between his teeth. “Where do ya want it?”

Robin’s gaze matched the intensity of his words. “Inside Valm Castle.”

Gaius stopped crunching and regarded Robin with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. “I see.”

“I understand if it’s too much to ask, but I’m more convinced than ever that Excellus is our biggest threat. He’s the one manipulating the dynasts.” As Robin spoke, Morgan’s words echoed in his ears. Walhart’s generals seemed like genuinely good people--honorable and loyal--and Walhart commanded their devotion. The only puzzle piece that didn’t fit the picture was Excellus--a man who used fear and torture to command troops. Though Robin didn’t know much about Walhart, what he did know didn’t match Excellus’ deplorable tactics.

“I get ya,” Gaius said. “You think we can turn the dynasts before engaging Walhart?”

“Exactly. With their numbers out of the way we stand a chance.”

Gaius hummed thoughtfully, unlatching another lolli from his belt and popping it into his mouth. “So what’s this little seed you want me to plant.”

“I want you to spread word that Excellus intends to kill their families whether they win the battle or not.”

“...that’s probably not far off from the truth,” Gaius said. “That should be easy. I just need a disguise.”

“I already have something in mind.”

* * * * * * *

Robin’s plan was imperfect but even Gaius agreed it was the best they had. Princess Say’ri was to accompany Gaius on a two-person mission to infiltrate the army seated at the castle approach and spread news that Excellus planned on murdering their families no matter the war’s outcome, convincing them they had a better chance at survival if they allowed the Ylissean army to enter the castle and confront Excellus. Princess Say’ri was to brook allegiance to the dynasts as their protector in the name of her brother to exact vengeance on Excellus. The princess was willing to do whatever it took to avenge her brother, even take arms with the lords who betrayed her.

“I will do whatever I can to avenge Yen’fay,” she said, gripping the handle of the thin Valmese sword strapped at her hip as she looked between Robin and Chrom. “I believe we can turn them against Excellus.”

“Gaius will get you inside the encampment,” Robin explained. “But I will leave the talking to you.”

She nodded, her expression even more serious than usual. “I shall not fail ye.”

Chrom stood at Robin’s side watching Say’ri and Gaius prepare for their mission with a dour frown on his lips. When they departed, he finally spoke up. “I don’t like this.”

“I know,” Robin agreed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do this?”

“Because I wasn’t sure this is what I was going to do until just a few hours ago,” Robin answered truthfully.

“I thought you had a plan.” Chrom wasn’t angry but seemed hurt to be left out of the loop.

“This is a better one. I promise. My other plan predicted more casualties.” Robin reached for Chrom’s hand and laced their fingers together. “This is the best plan we have and it gives Say’ri a chance to put her country on the road to recovery. When we leave, this place will be in shambles. They need a leader.”

Chrom sighed. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I just feel bad for sending her off on such a dangerous mission shortly after witnessing the death of her brother.”

“You’re a good man,” Robin told Chrom placing a kiss on his shoulder. “I love that about you. That’s also why you need me.”

“To do the dirty work?” Chrom said, half-amused.

“Exactly.”

“You think yourself a terrible person but I see right through it Robin. You’re just as good-hearted as I am.” Chrom pulled Robin into a tight embrace, kissing his ear before whispering, “And I know you will never think it but you’re a better man than I am.”

Robin didn’t believe it as he sighed against Chrom, instead relishing the thought that such an amazing man wanted to commit himself so wholly to someone like Robin. After sharing a fleeting moment together they parted and went back to work preparing the army for their hardest battle yet, hope hinging on the Chon’sin princess’ success.

Hours passed without incident, no word from Say’ri and Gaius nor news of their capture filtering in from scouting reports. Robin itched under the collar as he waited for their return constantly wondering if he sent two people to their doom. Then just two hours from sunset a messenger screeched to a halt before Chrom, practically falling from his mount in his rush to kneel before his lord. 

“Exalt Chrom! We have news from Gaius and Princess Say’ri!”

Chrom quickly lifted the man by the shoulders. “Are they okay?”

The messenger nodded. “Yes! And they have convinced the dynasts to rebel against Excellus!”

A ponderous weight lifted from Robin and he nearly collapsed with relief. “Oh thank the Gods,” he breathed.

Chrom looked on the verge of tears as he turned towards their gathered force, every gaze alight with fiery hope. “Once Gaius and Princess Say’ri return we march upon the castle!”

A cacophony of whoops and hollers rang between the pine trees. Good news for once, bringing much needed optimism to a tattered army. Nothing could dampen their fighting spirit now.

**So feeble, so insignificant these flames of hope.**

Robin’s heart stopped, cold dread sinking like sickness in his stomach. The voice ringing between his ears was devilish, poisonous, like rotten flesh falling from diseased bone, bitter like bile and frigid as a tomb of ice. It made everything in Robin’s world stop and spin backwards.

**Oh Little Bird, you think such sweet things of me.**

Robin could almost feel an oily smile brush against his thoughts. A part of him knew it was crazy to feel thoughts in such a visceral sense, particularly thoughts that weren’t his own, but there was no way to ignore the power of the words seeping into every cranny of his brain. And the most frightening thought of all was that he didn't recognize the voice.

It wasn’t Validar.

**I know you’re just dying to ask who I am. Rest assured...you already know.**

Robin reeled backwards and slammed into a tree. The Shepherd’s whoops and cheers came to a confused stop as Robin’s body fell into the snow. Chrom immediately rushed to Robin’s side.

“Robin!” Chrom cried amid concerned murmurs. Then he turned to the crowd and yelled for Lissa as he cradled Robin’s head. Robin’s eyes stared into a sea of faces as the voice in his head faded like a bad dream. He didn’t speak, only turned to Chrom and shuddered a breath. He didn’t know what to say, how to say it. Lissa pushed through the crowd and knelt beside Robin, healing staff glowing as Chrom’s thumb carefully stroked Robin’s temple.

“It’s alright,” Chrom whispered. “You’re just tired, overworked. You’re alright.”

Robin knew those words were meant to reassure Chrom as much as offer comfort to Robin. Lissa’s staff stopped glowing and she looked to Chrom.

“He’s okay,” she told him. “Just tired.”

Chrom nodded, thanking Lissa before he turned towards the crowd. “He’s okay. He just needs more rest. Let’s get ready for the battle ahead people! Let our tactician take it easy for a bit.”

Robin wanted to speak, he wanted to open his mouth and tell Chrom he was okay. Tell the faces before him they could count on him. Those words never came, never made it past the bitter tang and pucker of bile lodged in his throat.

That wasn't Validar’s voice.

It wasn’t Validar.

It was…

Robin felt Chrom lift him, firm arms wrapped around his body. Distantly he noted Frederick was there helping heave Robin’s thin body over Chrom’s shoulder and laying thick blankets over the snow. Those blankets were cold, everything felt cold Robin thought staring at the canopy above, pine needles woven like a thick green rooftop allowing only the smallest drops of melted snow between. One of the droplets splashed against his cheek. He felt Chrom wipe it away.

“Robin?”

Again Robin tried to speak.

“Please…”

Robin managed a gurgled sigh and found Chrom’s hand squeezing his own. He squeezed back.

“What happened?”

An unbidden tear slid from Robin’s eye. He didn’t know how to process the raw power of the thing that spoke to him, a silent voice that had assailed his thoughts like a violent beast gnawing on a bone. He felt Chrom kiss away that tear before pressing their cheeks together.

“Please…say something.”

Robin breathed in Chrom’s scent, barely identifiable amid the stench of ash and grime, but it was there and he held onto it like a tangible thing. A raft in the great ocean threatening to swallow him whole.

“There...a voice...in my head--again.” Robin struggled to find words.

Chrom’s head shot up. “Validar?”

Robin shook his head. “N..no.”

“Then who…?”

Robin swallowed the raw fear creeping into his throat again. He looked away from Chrom’s concerned gaze and back to the canopy, now dazzled with shining droplets of snow as the sun crept towards the horizon. He didn’t know if anyone could believe it, least of all himself, but Chrom deserved to know. The one person who loved him beyond all known reason deserved to know how bad things were going to get.

Robin had promised to keep no more secrets from Chrom.

“It was Grima,” Robin croaked, another tear sliding down his cheek. 

“Grima,” Chrom rasped, eyes wider than Robin had ever seen.

“He said nothing of importance…” Robin said, at once trying to remember and forget the Fell Dragon’s words. “His voice was just...there.”

“Oh Robin…” Chrom lifted Robin’s body against his own. “My love...I’m here. I’m here.” He rocked them together for a long, long time mumbling words of comfort.   
Robin wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Gaius stepped into his view, face unreadable. “It’s time Bubbles...you sure you’re up for this?”

Chrom answered quickly, “We’re ready. Just...give us a moment.”

Gaius nodded and walked away. Chrom helped Robin to his feet. “You can stay back with the healers,” he suggested.

“No,” Robin replied immediately. “No I need to be at the front. I need to help fight Walhart...Excellus...I need to be there.”

“But you’re shaken up, this isn’t--”

“No,” Robin interrupted, forcefully peeling away every vestige of the Fell Dragon’s talons from his heart. “No I’m ready. I can do this.”

Chrom gave him a reassuring kiss. “We can do this. Together.”

Robin smiled. “Together.”

The two of them approached their gathered forces lined up on the edge of the forest. Horses nickered anxiously as clerics paced between them muttering prayers. Despite the improbable odds ahead the Shepherd’s gazed upon the castle on the horizon with hope, tenacity and admirable resolve. They had fought hard to find this moment, to challenge the Conqueror within the belly of his fortress. Knowing they had the support of the Chon’sin dynasts once they reached the gates took a great weight from Robin’s shoulders. And Chrom’s too if the fire in his eyes was any indication. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the future, on the dire voices in his head. Robin squared his shoulders, fingering the Arcthunder tome at his side. It was time to confront Walhart the Conqueror and quell his forces once and for all.

The Shepherd’s marched forward, weapons and armor shining in the waning light and conviction burning in their hearts.


	7. Solstice of Fire (Part 2)

Firelight danced across Walhart’s blood red armor as he stood before the Shepherds, determination set in his jaw and cold eyes regarding them over the hilt of his massive axe. A robust man with a heavy lance slung across his broad shoulders nonchalantly twisted the tails of a long mustache beside Walhart--it was the same general the Shepherds fought at the Mila Tree defending Lady Tiki. With an unorthodox twinkle of delight in his eye the general eagerly regarded his foes. 

“Well met!” He enthused, possible smile hidden behind perfectly coiffed whiskers. “You Ylisseans are tough as nails. I’m thrumming with excitement!” He turned towards Walhart. “My Lord?”

Walhart’s gaze shifted from the Shepherds as he answered his general with a stoic nod.

“Come Excellus! We fight for the honor of Lord Walhart!”

“Excuse me? Fight?” Excellus scoffed slinking beside a pillar on the outskirts of the main floor. “You can bloody yourself all you want barbarian. Do not think I will do the same.”

Poised at the end of Valm’s great throne room Robin soaked in every nuance of their discourse, recognizing the tension between them as acknowledgement of their imminent loss. Walhart’s army was mostly bodies strewn morbidly along the castle approach, his only remaining comrades a formidable general and the gaudy tactician Excellus--who was as cowardly as he looked.

Walhart, clearly displeased with Excellus’ words, hefted his axe with ease and aimed a steady, condemnatory finger towards his turncoat tactician. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Excellus visibly paled. “M-my lord...I’m not a warrior of your caliber...surely you don’t expect--”

“I expect you to own up to your mistakes lout!” Walhart boomed. The massive man eased his weapon back like a snake coiling before a strike. “I know of your accord with the Plegian witch Aversa and her master Validar, cowardly worm.”

Excellus instantly prostrated himself on the carpeted steps beneath Walhart, flamboyant robes flapping wildly as he turned and pointed an accusing finger towards the Shepherds anxiously waiting at the end of the hall--waiting for Chrom’s signal to charge the last members of the Conqueror’s army and end the crisis on Valm. Excellus snarled curses at Chrom. “He has the Fire Emblem! I was going to get it for you my Lord!”

Robin noticed Chrom tightened his grip on the shield at his side, a Ylissean armament that was also the legendary Fire Emblem, its three stones winking beneath guttering torchlight. Robin squeezed their hands joined discreetly behind the shield. “Not yet,” he whispered. Chrom acknowledged Robin with a tiny nod, eyes never straying from Excellus’ furious glare.

Walhart strode up to Excellus and pushed his armored boot into the corpulent man’s chest. “No, you wanted Plegia’s throne in exchange for taking down my army if the Ylissean’s failed their quest.” Like a lion overturning a turtle, Walhart booted Excellus onto his back. “And now, you fight for me until they die or you die.”

“B--but my Lord--!”

With a hard, swift kick Excellus flopped down the steps. “You will serve me to the end.”

The general beside Walhart gave a hearty laugh. “Yes, fight Excellus. You’re a mage aren’t you?”

Excellus brushed off his robes and sneered, “That I am, you brainless oaf. You think I can’t win?”

The general twirled the ends of his mustache. “This should be good.”

“Indeed, Cervantes,” Walhart added.

Realizing Excellus meant to fight them Robin examined the Shepherd’s, many so worn out they could barely stand. Most were weak to magic or unable to maneuver well in the confines of Valm’s great hall. If Excellus really was a competent mage then some of them might die.

He knew what he had to do.

Slowly Robin withdrew his hand from Chrom’s with a soft-spoken, “Trust me.” Chrom was confused until Robin stepped away from the Shepherds and addressed Excellus.

“I will fight you,” Robin announced, voice reverberating around the hall. This was vengeance, he thought, for all of Excellus’ plots; for turning a war into his own personal playground; for Princess Say’ri and her brother. Robin was going to defeat Excellus in one on one combat.

“Robin!” Chrom shouted. “We have the numbers! You don’t have to--”

“But I want to,” Robin replied darkly. Then turned back to the worm writhing in front of him. “I want to.” A well of righteous anger brewed in Robin's chest. 

“Oh ho! You think you’re better than me?” Excellus laughed. “The bastard prince of Plegia?”

Robin wasn’t going to let Excellus’ words affect him, he wasn’t going to let the words of a lesser man get inside his head. It was crowded enough in there. With a flourish meant to unhinge some of Excellus’ confidence, Robin brandished his Arcthunder tome with a stance he learned from watching Feroxi battle-mages. “Are you going to fight me with words or magic? Because it doesn’t matter which weapon you choose, I will best you.”

Excellus sputtered a curse and whipped out his tome, a Bolganone. “You think I’m afraid? OF YOU!? Come then. COME AT ME!”

Robin keenly felt his opponent's desperation and rage moments before Excellus uttered the runes from his tome and spheres of red light raced from the man’s pudgy fingertips. Robin mentally plotted the magic’s trajectory and dodged with ease. He countered with a lower level casting just to see what Excellus would do. 

Robin’s lightning crackled and disappeared when struck with Excellus’ counterspell. Just as he suspected--Excellus was never going to physically dodge any of his spells.

“Ha! You’re not that good are you? And here I thought you must have been taught magic by the high Grimleal priests...instead you’re just an untrained mutt aren’t you?” Excellus jeered, guiding his hands slowly over the red-glow of his tome. “You have no idea what it means to be Grimleal!” He twisted his fingers and conjured a blazing pit of fire directly beneath Robin’s feet. The pit exploded into columns of hellish flames. 

Robin barely managed to avoid the molten fire with an airborne twist at the last moment, narrowly avoiding a plume to his face. The edges of his robe smoked as the smell of burnt hair filled his nostrils. That was probably Excellus’ play...he distracted his opponent with barbs and then ignited his spells out of their line of sight. That tactic was probably more successful on less mobile targets. Luckily Robin practiced evasion techniques every sparring session with Chrom--which meant he was just as agile as a swordsman and Excellus’ moves were wasted effort. “That’s a good move...perfect synchronization with your flapping lips. Too bad it won’t work.”

“Wh..what? How did you DO that? No fair! NO FAIR!” 

“You know what’s not fair?” Robin began, seething beneath the coldness of his words. “Enslaving the dynasts by threatening their families, forcing Yen’fay into your service in exchange for Princess Say’ri’s freedom--”

Excellus paled with fury. “How did you know that! Yen’fay swore his silence, that buffoon would never betray his word!”

Yen’fay’s treason made sense to Robin when he realized how much Princess Say’ri loved him. The Chon’sin prince sacrificed himself for her. It was all for her. “It’s obvious,” Robin growled. “No one as noble and loved as he would have followed someone like you!” Robin punctuated his accusation with a crackling streak of lightning from his fingertips. It was a small spell, he barely had to make a gesture, and that caught Excellus off guard. The ugly worm shrieked as Robin’s bolt sizzled through the space between his legs and left a smoldering hole in his robe.

Excellus’ beady eyes narrowed. “You think you can TOY with me? You are the puppet prince of a GOD! His Divine Patriarch does not deserve a heretic son!!” He uttered a string of archaic intones and a mass of swirling fire grew from his outstretched hand. “DIE! Die you mongrel!”

Robin rolled beneath the loosed fiery cone, almost dizzy from its intense heat. He followed with an advanced spell and twin bolts of electricity charged towards Excellus like intertwining snakes. The raw back draft of static ozone brushed Robin’s cheeks as he saw Excellus scramble backwards, buffoonish face alight with fear before a blazing wall negated Robin’s spell. 

When the smoke cleared Excellus’ annoying laughter filled the air. “That was your only shot, puppet prince. I won’t let you have another!”

The other tactician was surprisingly adept. But Robin had yet to unleash any of his most powerful spells. “It’s not as if you’re a moving target,” Robin said casually. “So it’s easy to predict your maneuvers.”

The man’s gaudy painted lips reeled into a slimy smile. “Oh ho, really? Then you probably saw this coming no?” An incantation Robin had never heard echoed through the hall and ignited each flickering torch into a raging bonfire. The heat of it had the Shepherds clustering together, everyone except Chrom who looked ready to intercede on Robin’s behalf at any moment. “Perhaps you will stop toying with me when I deform the perfect face of your little Exalt.”

Robin’s heart leaped into his throat when he realized Chrom’s immediate peril. Quickly he seized his tome and began an incantation to counter Excellus' flames--but there were too many targets, too many fires erupting along the wall hurling smoke and ash into the air. Chrom lifted his shield and sword against the heat and Robin knew his love was about to charge Excellus. Chrom was going to charge into a firestorm trap. He was going to die.

_He's going to die._

Robin’s brain stopped. A vast sea of calculations and spell incantations evaporated from his head like rain on hot stone. For the very first time in his life Robin could think of nothing. Nothing at all. Incantations of antipodes spells and diffusing counters abandoned him. In its place was a wild and unthinking rage. Robin moved in a frenzy towards Excellus, hands outstretched as if he carried the wrath of gods between them. Obliteration...destruction...death...these are what coursed beside Robin’s primal rage. Faintly he was aware his feet no longer touched the floor. Robin moved through the air with his Arcthunder tome hovering before him, its archival pages flapping as if trying to rip out of their binding. A howling cacophony of sounds filled his ears, like all of the Risen in Ylisse loosed their inhuman screeches in his head. Robin barely maintained coherency through the maddening dissonance until a prominent, sinister voice shuddered beneath his breath. In Robin’s voice, with Robin’s words it said, “ **And light ends with darkness, life ends with blood.** ”

Robin didn’t know why he spoke those words, he only knew they are going to give him the power he needed to save Chrom. He rose straight into the air just as Chrom charged Excellus. The fat mage cackled when he released his firestorm through the hall, Valm’s decorative banners disintegrating into smoke and metal torch fixtures oozing as liquid across stone. Chrom angled the Fire Emblem against the flames and continued his charge, Falchion seeking Excellus through the blistering heat.

The Shepherds burst into action moments after Chrom charged into the hall and Robin watched the scene unfold as if time had slowed to a crawl. Chrom raised Falchion as he neared Excellus, the Shepherd’s pealing cries followed behind. Excellus flashed a disdainful grin as he changed the trajectory of the flames to engulf Chrom. Robin didn’t move. He didn’t have to. Everything he needed to do was literally at his fingertips.

The burst of electricity from Robin’s hands was so powerful it blasted Chrom, the Shepherds and Excellus off their feet. Runes of light swirled around Robin as he bared down on Excellus, chaotic bolts of lightning beckoned by every twitch of Robin’s fingertips. The rotund tactician had little time to figure out what happened before his body lifted into the air and Robin’s pure, unadulterated rage cowed him into a sputtering mess. “No one touches Chrom,” Robin heard himself say. Without another word, not even an incantation, Excellus’ body was pin-cushioned by spears of raw lightning until it burst in a torrent of boiling blood.

The massive firestorm immediately vanished. Chrom and the Shepherds picked themselves up only to find the bloodied, tattered remains of Excellus beneath Robin’s feet. Then Robin’s head reeled and he fell into a heap on the floor.


	8. Ashen Sun

Chrom stepped forward, Falchion gripped firmly at his side and Fire Emblem strapped to his back. He stopped at the steps overshadowed by Walhart’s massive frame and addressed the Conqueror with every regal fiber of his being. “Your castle is surrounded and your army is defeated. Lay down your arms and I will accept your surrender.”

Walhart silently regarded Chrom then turned to the general standing anxiously at his side. “Cervantes...what do you think?”

Cervantes hummed thoughtfully as he stroked his mustache, unperturbed by their grim circumstance. “I think we can take out half that lot down there...most of them are barely standing. The young lad in front of us though...I’m less certain.”

“I see…” Walhart frowned. “And what of their tactician?”

“He’s out cold it seems. No need to worry about him.”

“You mistake my prudence for concern, old friend. They have healers on him right now.” Then Walhart looked down at Chrom. “Your tactician...who is he?”

Chrom looked back at Robin sleeping in the arms of Lissa as she murmured healing spells. “He’s my fiance,” Chrom answered. “And he is going to help me free this world from Grima.”

Walhart didn’t smile but he sounded amused. “Perhaps he will. You walk the Path of the King, Exalt of Ylisse. Your destiny has overshadowed mine.”

“We don't have to fight,” Chrom urged, sheathing his sword. “If it is your wish to destroy Grima then join us.”

“That is my wish but only one of them. Will you relinquish your throne to me, Chrom of Ylisse? Will you still stand by my side when I depose the remaining Kahn of Regna Ferox? Will you not ask me to yield as I destroy the Grimleal flock of Plegia?”

Chrom took a step back. “Of course not.”

“Then we must fight here,” the Conqueror concluded as he hefted his axe. “One destiny against another. Do you accept?” 

Cervantes quickly shoved his lance in front of Walhart. “My Lord, allow me the honor. I wish to serve you until my last breath.”

“Then you may fight the rest of them.” Walhart’s armored boots clamored over the stone floor as he descended the steps. “May we meet again in the afterlife.”

The general bowed his head and saluted Walhart, surreptitiously wiping something from his whiskered cheeks. “My Lord, my Emperor, my Conqueror. It has been a privilege.”

Chrom distantly saw Cervantes leap from the dais and march towards the Shepherds as they grouped together, weapons raised towards the fearless man. He had only a moment to see Cervantes engage a mountless Frederick before Walhart’s enormous axe swung down. Chrom dodged and rolled the Fire Emblem from his back in one smooth motion. “I guess I have no choice,” he relented, tightening the straps of his shield. “For the people of Ylisse, Feroxi and Chon’sin I will defeat you.”

“Path of the King…” Walhart muttered as he heaved a succession of blows, each powerful yet controlled. Chrom deflected the axe with Falchion, arm shaking from the force behind every attack. “You walk that Path now, Exalt Chrom, but let us see if you also--” Walhart spun mid-blow and aimed a giant sweep towards Chrom’s legs. “Have the strength to stand alone!”

Chrom somersaulted over Walhart’s axe, righting the Fire Emblem against his shoulder just before another blow landed. This one shuddered off the shield before Chrom landed several feet away. “I’m willing to do anything,” Chrom breathed. “Anything to save our world.”

“Even kill the very things you love?” Walhart stopped his onslaught for a moment, regarding Chrom as if they weren’t in the middle of a duel to the death. “Your tactician, your love, will you sacrifice him for the world?”

Chrom noted Walhart’s stance and fought for an opening, lashing out with Falchion in a series of rapier-fast thrusts, but each blow scraped across Walhart’s thick armor. His attacks had to be perfectly centered to punch through that armor, he realized. “No one has to be sacrificed when I’m willing to bear that burden,” Chrom heaved as he circled Walhart.

“How very noble of you!” Walhart renewed his assault, shouldering towards Chrom with speed he shouldn’t have possessed wearing heavy armor. Chrom parried attacks that left his entire side numb. “And when you make that sacrifice what happens to your country? What happens to your allies?” 

Breath was knocked from Chrom’s lungs when Walhart landed a successful blow against his shoulder. He managed to dodge a follow-up strike despite choking down air. “I believe...in them,” he gasped. “I believe--that they can forge a peaceful future.” Chrom squeezed Falchion’s hilt and the enarmes of the Fire Emblem. “I’m not the figurehead you wanted to be. I’m not an emperor or a conqueror, I can barely call myself king, but these people believe in me so I don’t want to let them down.”

“I see…” Walhart suddenly planted the end of his axe against the floor. “Then maybe you deserve to take my place as the destroyer of Grima. The Stone…” Walhart motioned towards the dais where the Valm throne rested on a sea of red velvet. “It’s there. The one that belongs in your shield.”

Puzzled, Chrom relaxed his stance. “Are you ...surrendering?”

A mirthless laugh erupted from Walhart’s unsmiling lips. “Never. You have to take my head. Let’s end this with the next pass. Your legendary sword against my Valerian Axe.”

“Surely you must want to live,” Chrom pressed. He didn’t want to kill Walhart, despite Basilio’s death and the lives of countless Ylissean and Feroxi friends. The man was a force they needed in their upcoming battle with Grima’s army. He was sure of that.

But Walhart wasn’t interested. “My time here is over. If you do not kill me then I will kill you. Then I will kill your comrades, starting with your beloved tactician. Do you understand?”

Chrom quickly dissolved any feelings of mercy. “I understand,” he said coldly. “With this next pass I will kill you.”

Walhart raised his axe, grunting as he tested the force he wanted to use with his next swing. Chrom made sure the Fire Emblem was firmly attached to his left arm and eased the point of Falchion behind the shield, out of Walhart’s line of sight. He needed a single, powerful thrust straight into Walhart’s throat to beat him in one pass. That was possible only if Walhart swung high, giving Chrom’s sword a clear path.

A rousing cheer exploded behind Chrom and he realized Cervantes must have been defeated. He let that sink in for only a moment before he cleared his thoughts--instinct would drive home the killing blow. He needed every muscle in his body honed on that single point. Without a word Walhart charged.

_Left...no low...then move right...yes high, feign left to get him as far over as possible then drop down and…_

Falchion punched right through the joint in Walhart’s gorget, striking the flesh beneath just as a heavy kick bludgeoned Chrom’s right side. Falchion twisted from his hands when he struck the floor, but the sword’s job was done. Walhart sputtered blood as he shakily marched towards Chrom, eyes wide and mouth contorted into an angry snarl. Bright agony wrenched a cry from Chrom’s lips and his hands flew to his broken ribs as he scrambled for purchase. The axe loomed over Chrom’s head and he raised his shield despite the gut-churning pain radiating from his chest. A moment later the axe fell beside Chrom with a ponderous thunk and Walhart's towering frame crashed onto the floor.

The Conqueror was dead.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * 

The days which followed Walhart’s defeat felt more chaotic than the war had been. Soldiers were treated for wounds and reunited with families, stores of food and clean water were distributed to refugees and carted off to fortifications where people slowly rebuilt homes and shops. The restoration of Chon’sin’s fractured society and its much needed leadership fell onto Say’ri and her Dynasts, and with Robin’s help things quickly evolved as planned.

Chrom visited shelters, handed out food, helped Virion and Cherche unite the noble houses of Rosanne and wrote letters to be delivered to fortresses and rural regions where conscripted soldiers had no idea the war was over. He did what he could with three broken ribs and a bevy of black bruises. Lissa’s topical analgesics smelled like horse dung but Chrom endured for the sake of Robin, Lissa and Frederick who all took turns forcing the horrible stuff on him.

Robin was particularly doting despite his absurd workload restoring Valm’s war-torn states. Somehow Robin managed to see Chrom every few hours and changed bandages, wrapped poultices and massaged Lissa’s Horrible Horse Dung Medicine into his skin. Chrom desperately wanted to help Robin more but he could barely stand for more than a few hours before his side screamed at him to rest.

Fresh snow blanketed the fields where unclaimed bodies lay, pristine white hiding the ugly truths of their victories. Chrom was glad when it started to snow again and Robin stayed with the Shepherds at Castle Valm while Princess Say’ri stayed in Chon’sin. Though the snowstorm made communication between strongholds difficult, Chrom was glad Robin was getting some much needed rest. He couldn’t remember the last time they slept in a private room beneath the warmth of downy blankets.

“The weather-readers say this storm should only last a few days,” Robin said as he wrapped clean bandages around Chrom’s chest. “We should be able to get everything done with three more days of clear weather then we can head back to Ylisse.”

Chrom shifted in his chair, turning slightly so Robin could pin the fresh dressing. “We’re here to make alliances and help people. There’s no rush.”

Robin’s ministrations stopped, face unreadable. “Isn’t there...?” Robin began quietly. “Shouldn’t we be rushing back to Ylisse?”

Chrom placed a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “A war report has already been sent to Ylisse, by now they know we won.”

Robin shook his head. “No, I mean...what about Validar? Plegia? We know Excellus was a Grimleal spy which means--”

“Robin,” Chrom interrupted softly. “We will stay here until you’re satisfied the people on this continent have what they need to restore their lives. Nothing is more important than that.”

Robin dubiously agreed then secured Chrom’s bandages. “We still haven’t talked about the _other thing_.”

Chrom huffed an exasperated sigh. “Nothing bad happened Robin. You’re worrying over nothing.”

“I think turning someone into a pile of skin and organs is something to think about.”

“Maybe, if that pile wasn’t formerly a giant jackass Grimleal spy. Look,” Chrom stood up, bearing the painful movement with a small wince. “You acted, albeit stupidly in my opinion, in order to help the Shepherds. You saw an opportunity to save lives. I don’t care how you defeated Excellus.”

“That’s just it Chrom. How did I defeat him exactly? I can barely remember what happened myself!”

“Then don’t think about it,” Chrom said. “Just...don’t think about it.”

Robin sighed. “Easy for you to say.”

“Can you say my tactic was any better? Walhart challenged me to a duel but I could have declined. There isn’t a hard and fast rule that demanded my acceptance.”

“Well, there is one. Unspoken but it’s there.” Robin moved behind Chrom and gently embraced him. “You won the confidence of your people and all of the people here by facing and defeating Walhart in single combat.” Gently he kissed Chrom’s shoulder. “You’re certainly not the one people are whispering about behind closed doors.”

“Just let them whisper Robin. They’re ignorant, they have no idea what sacrifices you make.”

“They also have no idea that I’m Grima’s vessel,” Robin said with a breathy laugh. “They must be wracking their brains for a reason I could use raw magic to obliterate a man on the spot.”

Chrom was shaking with emotion as he clenched Robin’s hands. “Because you love me, because you love the Shepherds, because you love to save lives! Every reason I can think of comes from your love for others Robin.”

Robin was silent for a long while until Chrom heard a whispered, “Thank you.”

Chrom slowly turned to face Robin, a breath of space between them. His lips gently brushed against Robin’s when he spoke. “No, thank _you_ my love. Everything we have done here, every breath I still take is because of your courage. Our bond grows stronger each day, strengthened with hope and love. There is no greater reason for our sustained victories than the bonds we share with each other and our friends.” 

Robin’s impossibly wide eyes locked onto Chrom in awe. “I don’t deserve you,” Robin murmured. “How are you possible?”

Chrom snatched a kiss from Robin’s slack-jawed lips. “I ask myself the same thing about you every single day.”

Chrom’s kiss galvanized Robin into a passionate frenzy Chrom would have welcomed had he not been recovering from three broken ribs. When he stopped with a wince Robin looked aghast. “Oh my gods I forgot, I’m so sorry Chrom!”

“I’m not sorry,” Chrom chuckled. “Just sad I can’t do all the things I want to do to you right now.”

“Soon,” Robin smirked, smoothing his hands down Chrom’s cheeks and planting a gentle kiss on his lips. “When Lissa says we can remove the bandages I will be here.” Another kiss. “Ready.” Robin’s teeth gently tugged at Chrom’s lower lip. “And willing.” He released the lip with a provocative leer. “For everything.”

Chrom reached forward and pulled Robin into a searing kiss, pain be damned. Robin settled his hands on Chrom’s shoulders, resolutely avoiding anything that might hurt him, but Chrom couldn't care less about the pain right now. He needed Robin in a way that might have frightened his sensibilities had he been in full command of them at the moment. Every thought of carnal lust for his partner shot through his core and demanded he ignore every ping of agony to take him right now--

“Chrom? Robin? Are you sure they're in there Frederick?” Chrom distantly recognized Lissa’s voice beyond the door.

“Perhaps we should come back later,” Frederick advised. So both Frederick and Lissa were out there waiting for them. Yet Chrom couldn’t let go of Robin, desperately longing to move against the wall or the bed so he could lift him up and---

Robin hit the floor hard when Chrom crumpled against the white hot agony exploding under his skin. Whatever shock Robin felt didn’t stop him from coming to Chrom’s side in an instant. “Chrom!”

Despite the pain, Chrom laughed through clenched teeth. “That was...well, good until a second ago.” 

Both Lissa and Frederick shoved the door open shouting “Chrom!” in unison. Chrom tried to control the hot blush creeping up his neck. “I’m okay!” he breathed. “I’m okay.”

“What on earth happened?” Lissa asked, glancing between Chrom and Robin. Frederick stifled a laugh.

“Just clumsy as usual,” Chrom said, sharing an amused smile with Robin.

Lissa harrumphed. “Well stop being clumsy then. You need to heal!” She marched up to Chrom and shoved another jar of healing salve into his hand. “Now you're getting this every HOUR.”

“Lissa…” Chrom groused. “I’m already coated with this stuff.”

“Well now you’re going to bathe in it,” Lissa replied hotly. She was incredibly fearsome when managing her patients, especially when said patient was her only brother. She brandished a scowl that brooked no arguments from anyone present and, when satisfied she was taken seriously, moved towards the door. “Oh, and I _know_ you hurt yourself fooling around with Robin. I wasn’t born yesterday.” At that she slammed the door, heels clacking as she stormed down the hallway.

Chrom breathed a sigh of relief. “I was afraid she was going to make good on her threat.”

“She still can my Lord,” Frederick chirped. “That one jar would hardly suffice. Perhaps she is getting more?”

Chrom replied darkly, “Not helping Frederick.”

It was Robin who moved their conversation elsewhere. Always one step ahead. Gods, Chrom loved that man. “I’m assuming there’s another reason you’re here Frederick?” Robin’s eyes darted to a parchment rolled between Frederick’s left hand.

Frederick nodded soberly and lifted the carefully rolled paper towards Chrom. “My Lord this arrived moments ago.” Chrom took it and began unwrapping its black silk bindings. “It’s from Plegia,” Frederick added.

Chrom’s fingers stopped. “Plegia? Why on earth would they send a message here?”

Robin stepped in. “We borrowed gold and ships from them. They were just as invested in this war as we were. The real question is who authored it?”

Chrom knew what Robin meant. They spoke little about the time Grima’s words echoed inside Robin’s head, mostly because speaking about it sent Chrom into a protective frenzy each time he rekindled the memory of seeing Robin so emotionally shattered. Chrom could tell that right now Robin was afraid--afraid that somehow Grima himself wrote the words written between Chrom’s fingers. “It must be Validar,” Chrom reasoned. “Probably congratulating us on our victory despite the fact he had spies in this country all along.”

Robin replied with an anxious frown. “I suppose we could just open it and find out.”

Chrom gave Robin a smile he hoped was reassuring. “Whatever it is we can handle it together.” He quickly worked the parchment free and unrolled it. Both Robin and Frederick craned their necks to read it along with Chrom. 

Robin finished first, no surprise there. “Is this...real?” Frederick shushed him until both he and Chrom finished reading the missive.

The trio stared at one another, a foreboding stillness between them. Chrom dropped Plegia’s letter onto the table, chewing his lip. “This is...a trap?”

“Of course it is my Lord,” Frederick asserted. “He wants you to bring the Fire Emblem to Plegia!”

“No, he wants to give Chrom Plegia’s sacred stone, Sable. Validar worded this very carefully,” Robin said.

“That means the same thing,” Frederick claimed. “Surely you see the threat between the lines.”

“I see every threat,” Robin countered. “But we need to see this rationally if we want an advantage over Validar. He holds the last card right now and he knows it. We have no choice but to go to Plegia for the last sacred stone.”

Frederick scoffed loudly. “And let Lord Chrom walk into the lion’s maw? Never!”

Wordlessly Chrom watched the two of them argue. He contemplated Validar’s message, wracking his brain for an answer. He knew Robin was right but Frederick was probably right too. He sat down and re-read the message hoping to glean some insight. Validar’s words were diplomatic, aloof, and noted with great verbosity Ylisse’s courage and success against a force that threatened them all. Something he expected from an ally nation and not really Validar’s style unless he wanted to improve relations with Ylisse--specifically Chrom and his Shepherds.

“Do you think Validar knew Walhart wanted to wipe out the Grimleal?” Chrom suddenly asked.

Robin and Frederick stopped bickering, giving Chrom their full attention. “He had spies here,” Robin replied. “I think he knew everything.”

“If you knew someone very powerful wanted to commit genocide on your country and your enemy stopped that threat...how would you react?”

“A normal person would have gratitude,” Frederick began. “But King Validar feels no such thing for us.”

“Even someone as manipulative and conniving as him has to rely on others for survival,” Chrom reasoned. “I don’t like the man, far from it, but I’m not so sure we should evaluate the situation in absolutes.”

Frederick’s confident gaze darkened. “He wanted to murder Lady Emmeryn. There is no redemption for that man.”

Frederick said his peace and Chrom had to agree. Even though the former Plegian King Gangrel had murdered Emmeryn, Validar played part to an assassination attempt on his sister prior to her capture. It was no surprise Frederick was unwilling to deal with Validar. However Chrom was the Exalt of Ylisse and he needed to do what was best for his people, there was no room for pride or vengeance--Emmeryn had taught him that. He then turned his attention to Robin. “And what do you think Robin?”

Robin was silent for a long while as he slowly paced the room, chin rested on a loose fist in what Chrom affectionately referred to as his “thinking pose.” Finally Robin faced them. “We should see Validar and bring the Fire Emblem with us.”

Frederick immediately protested. “That’s insanity! You want us to bring our only hope into enemy territory where it is the likely target of said enemy? You’re a brilliant tactician Robin but I just don’t see your logic.”

Chrom trusted Robin’s plans with his life, always had no matter how befuddling or harebrained those plans appeared, but he still needed an explanation. “Robin...I think we’re going to need a walk-through on your thought process.”

Robin’s storm-grey eyes were steady and assured. “Chrom, where would you keep the Fire Emblem if we didn’t bring it with us?”

Chrom thought about it. “Well, I suppose we would keep it in the castle. The vaults probably.”

“Yes, perfectly safe there,” Frederick added. “I know the vault guards personally.”

“There are two reasons I don’t like that idea,” Robin informed looking between Frederick and Chrom. “One: Validar himself was able to sneak into the castle, the Exalt’s chambers no less. And Two: Just ask Gaius how laughable it is to safekeep something in a vault.”

“Surely Gaius doesn’t know how well guarded the Ylissean treasury is,” Frederick declared with a confident jut of his chin. “We have only the highest of standards.”

“Oh he’s been in the vault several times,” Robin supplied airily. “A few of those times were on my orders. For the record we have very good security but everything has weaknesses.”

“Do I want to know why you ordered Gaius to break into the treasury?” Chrom asked, eyebrow cocked.

Robin offered a sly smile. “Probably not, it’s nothing important anyway. My point is we can’t leave the Fire Emblem anywhere, it has to be with us.”

“Then I will go to Plegia and get the last sacred stone,” Frederick announced, undaunted by Robin’s dismissal of his ability to protect the Fire Emblem. “You and Lord Chrom should remain in Ylisse.”

“Validar would see that as an insult,” Chrom pointed out. “It has to be me.”

“Then perhaps someone else can protect the Fire Emblem in your stead, like Lady Lucina?”

Chrom knew Frederick’s heart was in the right place but that did little to quell his sudden anger. “I will not burden her more with my troubles. She’s not the Exalt, I am.” He snapped to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain in his side. “I will take the Shepherds into Plegia and meet with Validar. I appreciate your concern my friend but I think Robin’s right. The only safe place for the Fire Emblem is at my side.”

Frederick quietly nodded despite the stricken frown on his face. Chrom knew there was no better knight in all of Ylisse and Frederick’s doubt was as expected as it was appreciated. Their plan was unconventional at best but Chrom saw little recourse. The three of them spent the remainder of the day planning an ambassadorial visit to Plegia. It was Robin who thought of the best idea: a counterfeit Fire Emblem for Chrom to carry while in Plegia. The best Ylissean metalsmiths would make an exact duplicate of the Fire Emblem and fashion a facade for the real one, which Frederick gallantly offered to carry. Only Chrom, Robin and Frederick would know of their plan. Fewer people involved made it less likely their ruse would be exposed while in Plegia.

When the weather cleared in the following days Robin set out to meet with Princess Say’ri--his last diplomatic mission before they left Valm. Chrom helped Frederick and Lucina pack for the journey back to Ylisse while Morgan jubilantly delivered messages between Valmese and Chon’sin fortresses. The boy’s enthusiasm in all things never failed to surprise Chrom, who watched him bounce on his heels anxiously while Frederick handed him a stack of important political dispatch. Morgan acted like a wide-eyed child most of the time but his battletome prowess and tactical foresight was second to Robin’s. That kid could take on anyone stupid enough to threaten him on the road.

Robin returned three days later, weary but pleased with his work. Chrom welcomed him with open arms, kissing the top of his head. “Are you ready to go home?” Robin responded with a positively radiant smile and Chrom’s insides melted despite standing knee-deep in a bank of mid-winter snow.

“Yeah…” Robin sighed, clutching Chrom’s hand tightly. “Let’s go home.”


	9. Creeping Shadows

Ylisse looked, smelled and felt like home. Robin relished the wintery air like a child who buries their face in a favorite blanket--loving every flavor and nuance of the that frigid Ylissean morning. Ylisse didn’t have snow like Valm or Regna Ferox but the air tasted of it, and Robin could think of nothing more relaxing than crisp morning air, a hot cup of fragrant tea and Chrom sitting across from him eating his weight in Frederick’s famously delicious biscuits. 

They sat at a small, round table on the Ivory Terrace overlooking sweeping hillsides and green pastureland. Robin wore a shearling coat dyed blue and white with the royal crest stitched in silver thread along a wide collar while Chrom wore a white fleece robe over tightly knit blue woolens. The Ivory Terrace was tucked between the eastern and western towers along the inner curtain wall of the Exalt’s Keep, boasting a great view and vital privacy for the Exalt and his family. Ordinarily Chrom and Robin breakfasted in the Exalt’s chambers but with their impending visit to Plegia Robin wanted to commit Ylisse’s splendor to memory--carry its emerald slopes and fresh air like a brand on his heart. There was nothing beautiful waiting for him in Plegia and anxiety welled inside Robin as everyday pushed him closer to their departure date. So at that moment he was determined to enjoy the morning with the love of his life.

Too bad Chrom decided to become the voice of reason. “As much as I love this new side of you,” he started, wiping his mouth free of crumbs, “I think we need to follow some of your own advice and spend our last week with the Shepherds in the barracks.”

Robin frowned. “New side of me?”

“Yeah...usually I’m the one chasing after you for some alone time but recently…” Chrom raised his hands in supplication. “Don’t get me wrong, I love this! I really do. I mean, you’re insatiable right now and I can’t imagine ever wanting anything else in my life but you’re usually the one to remind me of our mission.” 

Insatiable. Ever since Chrom's injury had fully healed, Robin couldn’t remember a time he needed Chrom more than he had the last few weeks. It was more than just an insatiable, unquenchable thirst for his love. He was desperately attempting to brand the memory of Chrom’s lean body, breathy gasps and passionate, unintelligible litanies into his heart as well. Robin didn’t know why he felt like all of this was the beginning of the end. He hated that feeling and so far the best remedy against his despair was to consume Chrom’s offerings of love and devotion in heavy, repetitive doses.

“You’re not enjoying our honeymoon Chrom?” Robin lightly teased. Because that’s what the past week had felt like: blissful unity without worry of a sudden call to arms loitering beside every moment. That was the respite they deserved--earned--and Robin was thirsty for every drop.

Chrom choked. “H-honeymoon?”

Robin lifted his teacup to his lips, smile wilting behind its alabaster rim. “Yeah...doesn’t it feel like it right now? Every detail of our journey to Plegia is planned, everything is ready. With nothing more to do it feels like we have all this time together--like a honeymoon.” Robin shook his head. “Maybe that’s stupid.”

“I love that you think of those things Robin, I really do,” Chrom told him. “And I’m not saying I don’t love the idea too...but we should really spend some of our remaining time with Lucina and Morgan.” Chrom’s sympathetic smile dropped into a faint frown. “We barely spent more than a few days with them before…”

“Before what? I took you to your bed and ravished you over and over and--”

Chrom’s face went scarlet. “Robin! What’s going on with you?”

Robin pressed his lips together, mostly so he wouldn’t continue talking. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, just that dread devoured his thoughts and he didn’t know how to stop it. Only Chrom’s embrace seemed to snuff his melancholy; in those blissful moments nothing else mattered.

Chrom continued, angry. “You need to tell me what’s going on. I know you don’t think I see it but you’re having migraines everyday now. You don’t have to hide them from me.”

“I just didn’t want to worry you,” Robin replied softly, placing a hand on his temple. He could feel those despairing thoughts now, like a battering ram against his skull. “It’s...so bad I can’t think sometimes. My vision fades and--” _And I see Grima, I see six blood-red eyes and black feathered wings and I see Death riding atop his back. I see myself, Chrom._ Robin wanted to explain but the words died in his throat.

“Then let’s get Lissa to make a poultice for you,” Chrom suggested. “Let’s have Maribelle mix potions. You aren’t alone. You are never alone.”

Tears welled behind Robin’s eyes. Not because of the impossible sincerity shining from Chrom, but because Robin knew he was alone in this. There was only so much Chrom could understand, only so many words Robin could take to heart before realizing they were hopelessly overshadowed by the dark abyss staring him in the face each day. He was likely the only vessel of Grima in the entire world and not one person could ever truly understand, but Chrom was worried and Robin didn’t see value in worrying him further with something Robin could barely understand himself. “You’re right. I should have asked for help with my migraines.”

Chrom nodded once. “Damn right you should have. We can have Lissa make something for your headaches right away.”

Robin downed the rest of his tea, it was cold anyway. “You know what? You’re absolutely right about all of this. We have spent far too much time alone when we should be with our friends and family. Time to get dressed.” Robin was out of his chair and at the terrace threshold before he noticed Chrom hadn’t followed him. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I’m an idiot,” Chrom mourned theatrically. “Here I had you all to myself for days and days and I just went and screwed it up. What the hell was I thinking?”

“Calling me out was the right thing to do. We have spent far too long cooped up in these quarters.”

“Oh my god I’m the stupidest man alive!” Chrom’s forehead thunked against the table.

Robin shook his head. “Get dressed when you're done overreacting. I’ll meet you in the barracks.”

The honeymoon was officially over.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Morgan was ecstatic to see Robin and Chrom enter the barracks. He flew from his seat at the commontable and nearly jumped into Robin’s arms. In contrast Lucina--calm, refined Lucina--stepped forward with a soft smile for her Father. She had a knowing look in her eyes and Robin wondered if she knew what he and Chrom had been up to for the past week.

“Are you guys finally done with all your secret strategy meetings Dad?” Morgan bubbled. “Cause I missed yoooouuuuu!”

Robin awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “Strategy meetings?” When Lucina averted her eyes Robin knew what she had done. “Ah yes,” he nodded. “We're all finished now.” Robin presumed he pulled off their ruse quite well, unfortunately Chrom’s conspicuous embarrassment instantly gave them away.

Morgan’s eyes widened after a blink. “Oh my gods...You were having sex this WHOLE time!?” Morgan screeched, then directed his ire onto Lucina. “Lucina why did you lie to me?”

She batted Morgan’s accusing finger away from her face. “I didn’t want to think about it of course. I mean--Chrom’s my father!”

“Well Robin’s my Dad and I don’t care how much sex he has...well...okay that sounded wrong. I don’t want Dad to go around banging other--”

“Morgan can you please stop talking?” Chrom begged, cheeks scarlet. “We don’t need you to wake up the entire barracks.”

“Too late,” Gaius drawled, strolling into the common room with a mischievous wink. “It’s nearly noon, sleepyheads. Everyone is up.”

“Then where is everyone?” Robin wanted to know.

On queue the rest of the Shepherds shuffled into the room, expressions ranging from amused to mortified. “We were all watchin’ Sully’s new lance demonstration in the practice room. Well, everyone but Little Blue and Little Bubbles of course,” Gaius told them, overtly entertained by the near-stifling discomfort in the room. “I can’t imagine why you’re so embarrassed. It’s not like your trysts are a big secret around here.”

Chrom moaned, burying his face in his hands. “Can we _please_ stop using these words.”

“Oh come on Blue.” Gaius shrugged. “We all know your love is true. It’s sweet...in a way. Just keep thinkin’ the ground will swallow you whole to get your mind off it.”

“Gaius I swear--”

“Don’t swear Blue,” Gaius laughed, cutting him off. “It might ruin the wholesome, innocent image we have of you right now.” Gaius’ humor proved infectious and soon most of the shepherds amiably whooped and whistled with him. 

Chrom met Robin’s eyes and complained, “Why do they always make fun of me?”

“You’re so easy to fluster,” Robin said. “I’m guilty of it as well.”

“Me too!” Morgan chimed. “I do it all the time! Lucy gets all red-faced too when I ask her about romance and stuff. It’s pretty funny.”

Lucina didn’t contradict Morgan, instead she stoically ignored him and grabbed a long sheet of paper off the table. “Anyway, we’ve been mapping a route to Mount Prism after we retrieve the last sacred stone,” she told Chrom, who mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to Lucina. “We decided that the best route out of Castle Plegia is the Spineback Mountain Pass to the north, then we head straight back to Ylisstol and sail ships to the peninsula, docking a short distance from Mount Prism. We can save a lot of time that way.”

“And we don’t need many ships,” Morgan added. “Simple cargo vessels should do since we aren’t going into open ocean.”

Robin affectionately ruffled Morgan’s hair. “Thinking hard while we were away I see.” The truth was Robin had already planned their leave from Castle Plegia, but it never hurt to have a second exit strategy. 

Morgan beamed, chest puffed. “I’m still researching everything we have on Mount Prism and Naga’s Ritual.”

Robin saw Lucina instinctively smooth her hand down the pommel of the Falchion at her side. “Mostly we just found different interpretations for the inscription on the sword itself.”

“ _When all is lost, the Future remains._ ” Chrom repeated from memory. “There’s not a whole lot of information in that statement.”

“Maybe not, but some historians were pretty interested in obscure religious practices at the time of the Hero-King’s Pact so we read a lot of their works. We think that the Awakening isn’t just about invoking Naga’s power, but the power of all Earth dragons.”

“All Earth dragons?” Robin echoed, surprised. “You mean even…”

“Yup, even Grima. The scholar Ulrich Tarnith thought the Fire Emblem could even awaken Grima as well, with the right ritual. His idea was pretty unpopular though.”

“The Fire Emblem is a sacred object; to say it holds the power to awaken darkness goes against everything I was taught,” Chrom explained. “But anything you can find is helpful Morgan. Thank you.”

Robin didn’t know what to make of Morgan’s findings. On the one hand these were harmless anecdotes from men and women writing about events that happened five hundred years prior to their birth. Unlikely there was much truth in their speculations. On the other hand Robin wasn’t one to casually spurn the writings of noted chroniclers. Perhaps the Fire Emblem was more of a neutral entity, much like its companion sword and even the dragon goddess Naga herself. The Falchion was a divine weapon but Naga didn’t demand devotional deeds from her followers--unless one needed to awaken the Falchion's true power. That required consecration of the highest order. 

So maybe the Grimleal also worshiped the Fire Emblem in some way because its power was connected to Grima. If that was true then Validar’s offering of Plegia’s sacred stone reeked of trickery--even more so than before. _Maybe it’s a mistake to bring it with us,_ he worried. _Did I make the right call this time?_

No, he made the right call. The Fire Emblem was in more danger left outside their hands. No one in Ylisse could protect it better than the Shepherds, better than Chrom, and it was vital that they recover Plegia’s stone. Their plan was going to work. 

It had to work.

While Morgan and Lucina dragged Chrom to their book-laden table, Robin sidled beside Gaius. If there was anyone who could abscond the Fire Emblem out of Plegia it was the best spy in all of Ylisse. Though Robin hoped such action wouldn’t be needed at all.

“Bubbles.” Gaius tilted his head. “Need somethin’?”

“Hopefully not.”

Gaius smirked. “Sounds like you got somethin’ juicy up yer sleeve.”

“Just a contingency plan. We can about it talk tonight.”

“Same place? “

“Yeah.”

Gaius nodded, crunching spun-sugar candies between his teeth. They quietly watched Chrom squirm under the weight of Morgan’s enthusiasm for obscure literature and Lucina’s demand that Chrom know all there was to know about Naga’s ritual. It wasn't long before Robin could no longer ignore the palpable tension between him and Gaius.

“There’s something on your mind,” Robin stated.

Gaius side-eyed Robin. “Yeah…”

“Intel?” Robin guessed, glancing around them.

“Kinda.”

“Probably not the best place for it.”

Gaius frowned, watching Morgan, Lucina and Chrom with a touch of sadness Robin had rarely witnessed on his friend’s face. “I guess it can wait until tonight.” Then Gaius flashed a grin as fraudulent as his trick coin. “No sense in dampening the mood.”

Robin was left wondering what sort of information Gaius had as his friend sauntered into the crowd of Shepherds and snatched Sumia's attention with a flirtatious grin. She smiled warmly then nodded and took his hand. The pair left the room, presumably venturing back to the training hall. Huh. Sumia and Gaius...not as unexpected as Robin once thought.

“Dad!” Morgan clamored, darting up to Robin. “Have you ever read The Seven Military Classics of Ancient Archanea? There’s a lot on asymmetric engagements that I thought might be helpful.”

“I read it,” Robin revealed, “But I could use a refresher.”

Morgan rushed back to the table, dwarfed by the ponderous volume he held up to Robin. “I bookmarked the best parts.”

Robin pushed away the tendrils of worry brought to the surface by Gaius’ ambiguity and joined Morgan, Lucina and Chrom around the commontable. Everyone wore scintillating smiles as they chatted away, and raucous laughter from the Shepherds filled the spaces between them; the atmosphere felt more like a party than the week before they marched into Plegia under a tenuous shroud of peace. That's why Robin knew it was fake. All of it.

The Shepherds were rattled; Lucina was frightfully worried about her father and the future events she witnessed during her lifetime; and Morgan was scared. No, not just scared--terrified. Robin instinctively felt all of it, their fear was like a dark shadow eclipsing every friendly grin, every burst of laughter.

**Mortals...it is their fate to fear. To die. You feel it just as I do.**

Robin closed his eyes, fighting back the bile rising in his throat. _Grima_

**Little Bird. Will you fly away again?**

Robin didn’t answer. He never did. Instead he shivered, wiping clammy sweat from his brow. Within moments the foul presence passed and he could breathe again. When he opened his eyes Morgan stared at him, concerned. “I’m fine,” Robin said, clearing his throat. Worry marked Chrom’s brow but he said nothing before turning back to Lucina.

One week remained until they journeyed to Plegia Castle and verified the location of the final sacred stone, Sable. Though Validar's inevitable betrayal loomed over his thoughts like a persistent shadow, Robin still hoped. Hoped that Morgan's and Lucina's future never came to pass, hoped that he and Chrom would get married and rule over a land full of life and prosperity, and hoped that the evil sleeping within the brand on his hand--and sometimes in his own head--wouldn't destroy them all.


	10. Depths of Love

Gaius nervously crunched lollipops, chain-eating like he had a thousand of them stashed under his vest. Robin considered that a distinct possibility as he watched Gaius toss the empty sticks like used matches. They stood beneath the slate-cobbled awning of a keeper’s shed tucked in the corner of the southern rose garden. The rose bushes were already pruned for winter, so the once fragrant garden was nothing but thorny sticks jutting from the ground. It was Robin’s usual spot for clandestine meetings during the winter months.

“You seem abnormally fazed,” Robin noted, snuggling deeper into his shearling coat. It was hard leaving the warmth of the massive hearth in Chrom’s room to sneak out into a cold winter's night. 

“Yeah,” Gaius began, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I’m not sure how this is gonna go.”

“Just tell me, no need to tiptoe around my feelings. I trust your judgment.” 

“Right.” Gaius breathed deeply. “It’s about your son.”

Robin’s chest tightened. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s fine, physically.” Gaius licked his lips. “But I don’t think he should come to Plegia with us.”

Robin had tried to convince both Morgan and Lucina to stay in Ylisse but each had refused. Lucina was an adult woman so there was little for Chrom and Robin to argue and Morgan had already fought on the front lines in Valm. It was hypocritical to deny the boy a place in their ranks now. “I agree, but I can’t very well lock him in his room.”

“Little Bubbles is a chip off the ol’ block alright. It’s just…” Gaius ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen the look in his eyes before. It’s not just fear. Fear is what we all got because none of us know how this is gonna go down. What Little Bubbles has is something else.”

“What are you saying,” Robin murmured, concern growing with each passing breath. Gaius wasn't a man easily rattled. 

“I think all this Plegia bullshit is just coverin’ our heads, ‘cause what I saw in that boy’s eyes is the real deal.”

“What--”

“He knows more than he’s told us.” Gaius stared at Robin. “And I think Little Bubbles is goin’ back to Plegia for us--for you--even though he knows he shouldn’t. The little guy puts on a brave front but he looks about as strickin’ as a thief with a noose around his neck.”

Robin leaned against the cold stone wall, numbly digesting Gaius’ words. “You think someone’s targeting him?” Gaius nodded and Robin gazed at him, hard. “If you had to take a guess, no matter how wild, who do you think he’s afraid of?”

Gaius rubbed his neck. “I don’t like guesses. I’m a cold, hard facts kind of guy.”

A frigid breeze blew over the courtyard, scraping dead leaves against cobbled stone. Mutely Robin shoved his fists into the fleece-lined pockets of his coat. Gaius shifted on his feet to keep warm, eyes darting from shadow to shadow while he waited for Robin to speak again. Robin debated telling Gaius everything: his connection to Grima, his premonitions of death, but he stopped that train of thought cold. “I think I know what Morgan’s afraid of in Plegia,” he started, white puffs of warm breath disappearing into the air. Gaius slowly nodded, bright eyes searching Robin’s face for a tell, something, anything that might give away the words he hadn’t heard yet. Robin soldiered on. “In his future Validar succeeds in summoning Grima because we failed to defeat him in Plegia. Chrom was killed before he could perform the Awakening, and most of the Shepherds were slaughtered in the aftermath. He’s lived in a future born of our failure. A future that threatens to repeat.”

Gaius’ narrow stare told Robin that he knew there was more to that story. “That’s been on all our minds as of late. Little Bubbles is carrying a bigger burden than that. Try again.”

“It sounds like you know more than you let on,” Robin frowned. Finally Gaius’ perceptive green eyes eroded his resolve. “Fine. He’s afraid of me, or rather the potential for failure that exists in me specifically.”

Gaius reeled, face angled towards the night sky. It was a cloudy, moonless night so his eyes had nothing but darkness to gaze at. “Time travel is bullshit, you know that? You’re not responsible for mistakes you haven’t made yet. I’m sure my ass would be locked up in Blue’s deepest, darkest dungeon if that was the case.”

“I assure you, your crimes pale in comparison to the ones I am capable of.”

Exasperated, Gaius shoved Robin against the wall. “Look. You’re the last person I want to hear this from. You’re a damned saint compared to me, you know that? You like to think you’re debased but you don’t know shit when it comes to your own image. The best, gods-blessed man I have ever known in my entire, rotten, ill-fated life is madly in love with you. Surely that proves _something_ to you.”

Angry, Robin shouldered away from Gaius’ deprecating scrutiny. “Oh don’t give me that. You think Chrom’s naivety will get us all killed someday.”

Gaius scratched his chin. “He’s naive, I will give ya that. But Blue knows people. Hell we have TWO Plegian dark mages in our ranks and I was the first to tell him they’ll slit our throats in our sleep. But now I trust Sunshine and Junior with my life--and I don’t trust easy.” Gaius heaved a tired sigh, wiping his hands over his face. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight. I can’t stop you from wallowing in your own demons, I couldn’t live down the hypocrisy if I did. Just...talk to Little Bubbles. Tell him not to go. Force him if you have to. I don’t want the kid to get hurt and I can guarantee you he will get hurt—or worse--if he goes with us.”

For the first time Robin noticed the depth of affection Gaius kept for Morgan. “Gaius…” Robin uttered lowly, heated words melting against the north-born chill rushing through the courtyard. “I’ll do what I can, maybe impart to him your own feelings on the matter. That might change his mind.” 

Gaius fought down a blush, idly scratching his rosy nose. “No need to mention my name,” he grumbled. “Just keepin’ you nutcases safe. I do it all the time.” He then coughed loudly, digging into his coat for more candy. “So anyways, what was the other thing? Somethin’ about another plan?”

Right. The contingency plan. Robin pushed away his concerns for Morgan for the moment and replaced them with placid professionalism. “As you know our exit strategy relies on the positioning of your men at Plegia castle’s eastern gate, with Sumia and Cordelia’s pegasi brigade hidden in the hills awaiting our signal. That’s still our primary plan but I have a different role for you.” Robin’s worst fear was losing the Fire Emblem. No, it was losing Chrom but theft of the Fire Emblem was high on Robin’s mental list of horrible things that could happen to them in Plegia. “If the Fire Emblem is stolen I need you to retrieve it...by any means necessary. Make certain Validar doesn’t get his hands on it.”

Sugar crystals cracked loudly between Gaius’ toothy grin. “You got it. Freddy Bear’s armed with the real one I’m guessin’?”

A sly smile spread over Robin’s lips. “How did you--no never mind. Sometimes I don’t want to know just how perceptive you really are.”

Gaius chuckled. “You and me are two gingersnaps in a pocket sometimes. I don’t wanna know how you do crazy crap on the battlefield either. Most times I don’t look real hard unless it involves boatloads of sugar, or my own skin.”

“Things of equal importance,” Robin smiled. “Do you need help devising a plan to stay hidden in the castle if things go south? We should arrange an escape route--” Robin quieted when he saw Gaius emphatically shake his head.

“Nah, I know what I’m doin’. I used to live in Plegia, remember? It was short lived but I know my way around, and castles are all the same. Full of ratholes and escape tunnels.” His mouth suddenly stretched into a wide yawn and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m sure Blue’s gettin’ lonely in that big royal bed. And I need some shut eye myself. Unless there was somethin’ else…?”

Robin reached for a pouch hooked onto his belt loop and handed it to Gaius. “For your time, and your service,” Robin explained when Gaius raised an inquiring brow.

“Aww you shouldn’t have.” Gaius mocked a curtsy before snatching the bag. He glanced inside, nodded appreciatively at the contents and stuffed it inside his vest. “You know what I like.”

“The best honeycomb in all Ylisse.”

“Sweet sweet gold,” he moaned, salivating noisily. “Well best be off now. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Robin guffawed. “Which leaves what exactly?”

“Exactly.” Gaius winked.

They parted ways and Robin ambled back towards the Exalt’s suite, happy to return to his mountain of winter quilts and Chrom’s warm embrace. Tomorrow morning he would speak with Morgan and hope to change his son’s decision to enter Plegia. There was a fine line between bravery and recklessness, which Morgan straddled as often as Robin himself. It was time to embrace parenting and do what every father had to do at some point in his life.

Tell his child no.

* * * * * * * *

“No!” Morgan shouted, balling his small fists against his hips. “I’m going!”

Robin sunk his head into his hands and repeated, “For the last time Morgan this isn’t up for debate. This is for your own safety!” He raised his head, weathering his son’s mutinous glare. “And don’t think I’m the only one who thinks you should stay in Ylisse. Both Gaius and Chrom want you safe--”

“It’s not happening dad,” Morgan snapped, defiantly crossing his arms. “I’m going with you.”

Robin tried to understand Morgan’s feelings but he was growing increasingly frustrated with hitting the brick wall that was Morgan’s tenacity. “I understand you want to help, I would too in your position, but this is Plegia. Your resemblance to me is uncanny, any Plegian agent could make an attempt on your life in order to gain an advantage.”

“Then I’ll wear a disguise,” Morgan insisted quickly. “I can dye my hair and dress like someone else. No one has to recognize me as your son.”

“Why is this one moment so important to you? We know Validar is going to betray us, we're prepared for it.” Robin’s eyes softened. “He’s not going to win this time.”

Morgan pressed his lips together and remained silent for sometime. A crackling fire glowed from the marble hearth chasing away the morning chill which still clung to Chrom’s quarters. “You don’t know that,” Morgan finally responded quietly. “That’s why I have to go.”

Robin’s head angled back and he stared at the swirling silver filigree etched into the ornate ceiling. Presently his famous intuition sparked brighter than the white gems winking at him from above. Though unintentional, what Morgan wordlessly insinuated threatened to unravel all of Robin’s carefully honed confidence. “You need to tell me what happened in Plegia in your time,” Robin said gravely, looking back at Morgan.

Dismay lanced briefly over Morgan’s face. “That’s...that timeline is different from this one. I remember Lucina fighting Risen but in this timeline she's not born at ALL which is kinda weird but I--”

“Morgan…” Robin interjected softly.

“Right,” he chuckled nervously. “Rambling.” Morgan took a deep breath before pressing on. “So from what I know, just bits and pieces really, Chrom was killed by father during a last stand in Plegia against Validar. Afterwards the Risen began to spread across Ylisse and the Shepherds were killed over the next several years. Eventually Lucina and what remained of her army took up arms but there wasn't much they could do without awakening Lucina's sword...” Fear replaced the defiance in his eyes. “We can’t let any of that happen again. This might be our only chance to change fate.”

Robin shuddered a breath. “We will change fate Morgan but that doesn’t require you putting yourself in danger.”

“I know but...well what if I need to be there? Maybe I can make a difference somehow.” Morgan smudged the heels of his palms across his face. “I want to defeat Grima just as much as anyone else. I want to come back and be a real family.”

Robin smoothed his fingers over Morgan’s pale hair. “I know you want to help but there’s fear in your eyes too.” Morgan mutely stepped forward and buried his face into Robin’s chest. “Chrom will be okay,” Robin reassured despite his own fears trickling over the rim of an overflowing cup. “The Shepherds and I will do everything in our power to see to that.” 

_Don’t kill Chrom again._ Robin shivered as he recalled Morgan’s words to him on that cold night in Valm beneath a stony moon. The night he found out he was Grima’s vessel.

Morgan peered up from the folds of Robin’s heavy cloak. “Dad...you’re shaking.”

“I would never hurt Chrom,” Robin whispered, swallowing around the cold lump lodged in his throat. “Please trust me enough to remain here and wait for me to bring him back.”

“I want to trust you,” Morgan said lowly, squeezing Robin’s chest tighter.

Robin rubbed soothing circles over Morgan’s back. “Our future is going to change. We are fighting to change it everyday. But that doesn’t mean we risk the things we love so easily.” Robin leaned back so he could wipe away Morgan’s tears with the hem of his sleeve. “Chrom and I are fighting for you, for Lucina, for the Shepherds and a country full of people who deserve to live their lives in peace. We will never ever risk those lives unless we absolutely have no choice. What’s the point of victory if you lose everything that matters?”

Morgan’s mouth cracked into a smile despite the tears in his eyes. “You sound like her.”

“Who?”

Morgan drew away from Robin, a strange mix of sadness and hope on his face. “Like mother.”

Robin felt blood drain from his cheeks, a knot twisted in his chest. “Your...mother?” He didn’t want to know. Please. He just didn’t want to know.

Morgan laughed nervously. “Oh, no. I should clarify she wasn’t my real mother. She helped raise me so I think of her like that.”

“Oh,” Robin breathed, more relieved than he thought possible at the moment. “I wasn’t trying to keep you from talking about her I just…”

“I know.” Morgan blinked away the last of his tears before wiping his nose. “And I don’t want to talk about it. Not really. It’s just you sound like someone very precious to me. And that makes me really really happy.”

For a moment Morgan appeared content basking in those memories, but Robin still needed to convince him to stay in Ylisse. “I would also like it if staying in Ylisse for Chrom and me made you happy too.”

“I…” Morgan paused, shifting from foot to foot as if the rocking motion helped him think. “I think I can do that.”

“Morgan you can’t--wait really?” Robin blinked. “You’re really going to stay here?”

“Yeah...I think I can manage that if it means so much to you guys.”

Robin swept Morgan’s small frame into an elated hug. “By the Gods thank you. You have no idea how much this means to us.” A small part of Robin’s brain argued he should also make Lucina stay in Ylisse too but he didn’t have much pull with her and Chrom often let her make her own decisions as a matter of training as the future Exalt. Still...Morgan’s safety was more than a small victory and he smiled into the boy’s hair.

“I know,” Morgan replied from somewhere deep within Robin’s embrace. “I know…”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

 

Soon the week was up and the caravans were loaded with supplies. The Shepherds were swamped with last minute errands despite the fact Robin knew everything was ready. He wondered what could possibly be so important as he watched Sully and Stahl dash off to the market and Gaius paint ointment over swollen bee stings littering Sumia’s bare arms. Frederick stood stoically at his side waiting for Chrom’s signal to move out. Robin had no idea when that might be since Chrom was nowhere to be found.

“What in blazes is taking so long,” Robin complained, eyes roaming over a list between his hands. Everything had been checked. Twice.

“I assume it’s the honeycakes,” Frederick told him.

“The what?”

“Honeycakes. For one week in winter the vendors sell their honeycakes before the Winter Festival.”

“Chrom didn’t tell me about a Winter Festival.”

“Possibly because he didn’t want to disappoint you. I believe you missed it last year when you were busy procuring ships to Valm.”

“So everyone is out buying honeycakes? Really? Couldn't someone have just baked them. Like you for instance. You’re pretty handy in the kitchen.”

Frederick’s brow creased, though the same look on anyone else would have been an indulgent eye roll. “My Lord Chrom and Lady Lissa don’t care for them, but it appears many of the Shepherds do.”

Robin shoved his list into his cloak and marched over to Gaius and Sumia. “Are you guys going crazy over these honeycakes too?”

Sumia flashed a warm smile that was quickly replaced by pain when Gaius rubbed ointment over her arms. “Please be more careful Gaius,” she pleaded. 

“Sorry Stumbles,” Gaius muttered, intently focused on the task at hand. “You got a lot of em here. What could’ve possessed ya to go out and get all that honey?”

She blushed. “I wanted to bake you honeycakes for the journey.”

Gaius’ head snapped up and the empty lollipop stick he had been chewing fell from his lips. “That's…” He cleared his throat, as well as the surprise on his face with a wave of his hand. “Next time ask me to help, geez. I hate seeing you like this.”

“At least I have a lot of honey to bring with us. Maybe I can make honeyed apples instead.” Sumia turned back to Robin. “Where’s Lord Chrom? Aren’t we supposed to leave?”

Robin heaved a great, beleaguered sigh. “Considering less than half our contingent is here we have to wait. I swear no one listens to me sometimes.”

“What was that Bubbles?” Gaius smirked.

“Anyway,” Robin stated loudly, ignoring Gaius. “I hope we can reach our first camp by nightfall at this rate.”

Robin shook his head and marched back to Frederick’s side. “I guess we wait.” The knight nodded once and continued watching the crowded marketplace, loudly notifying Robin when one of their party joined the awaiting caravans. Finally Chrom and Lissa materialized from the crowd wearing matching toothy grins. Robin had words for them. Lots of sharp, pointed words.

“Hi.” Chrom brandished a handsome smile before Robin could open his mouth. “I have something for you.”

Lissa danced beside Chrom like an energetic marionette. “You love him, you need him. You want to maaaarry him,” she singsonged.

“Will you stop it,” Chrom insisted with a laugh. “I thought all of that was obvious.”

Lissa twirled on the tips of her toes. “Yeah but I wanna be your annoying little sister right now. It’s freeing.”

“Well go be free somewhere else right now, you’re ruining the moment.”

“Fine. I bet Grumpy Bear is better company right now.” She blew a half-hearted raspberry before leaping away.

Robin, more confused than ever, watched her weave through the crowd before turning back to Chrom. “Why are you so late? It’s bad when the crew is late but worse when its captain snubs punctuality.” That’s when Robin noticed a box carefully held out to him. It was wrapped in silver and gold paper with a shining red ribbon laced artfully across the top. “Already placating me with gifts? I would have rather you been on time.”

“Robin,” Chrom said softly. “Open it.”

“Is this really the time to be opening presents?” Robin peered across the gift to Chrom who gave him an encouraging nod. “Fine.” He carefully peeled back the wrapping until a red lacquered box shone beneath the noontime sun. Chrom wrung his hands anxiously as Robin opened the box.

A silver oval-shaped pendant necklace winked from a bed of blue velvet. “It’s--” he started to say before Chrom reached over and opened the pendant. Inside was a small yet detailed painting of himself standing next to Chrom, Lucina and Morgan. 

“In Ylisse these are special lockets,” Chrom explained. “They're given to loved ones before they embark on a journey away from home. It’s a traveler’s charm filled with all of the love needed to find one’s way back.”

Robin didn’t know what to say as Chrom gently lifted the necklace from the box and clasped it around Robin’s neck. There were only two sentimental items in Robin’s possession: his cloak and his royal engagement ring. And now a third settled heavily against his sternum given by the man gently sliding calloused fingers down Robin’s neck. 

“It suits you,” Chrom beamed. 

Robin mirrored Chrom’s smile. “I love it.” Then added, “Now I feel bad that I wanted to castrate you for being late.”

Chrom’s expression of mock horror made Robin chuckle. “You would never! Though I apologize for being late, even if it was because I wanted you to have this before we left.”

Robin clutched the locket tightly, already he liked smoothing his thumb across its polished surface. “Well several of the Shepherds are still in the market square buying honeycakes so we have to wait anyway.”

“Oh!” Chrom exclaimed as if suddenly remembering something. He pulled out a box wrapped in simple linen and braided hemp. “These are for you too. It’s Ylissean tradition.”

“Are these the infamous honeycakes?”

“Yeah. Traditionally mothers make them for their kids but nowadays they’re often given to lovers and spouses.”

Robin tucked the box under his arm. “Frederick told me you don’t like them.”

Chrom draped an arm around Robin’s neck and kissed his forehead. “I don’t, but it’s tradition. And since you’re going to rule Ylisse with me one day I think you need to know all about its many fine, long-heralded traditions.”

“Are they all gift related?” Robin quipped. “Because I could get used to that.”

Chrom hummed thoughtfully. “I have a great many gifts to bestow upon you, it is my duty as your fiance.”

Laughter bubbled from Robin’s lips, light and easy. “And what gifts should I be giving you?”

With a flirtatious wink Chrom replied, “Your smile is everything I need Robin.”

Robin scoffed lightly. “Flatterer.”

They cut a path through the crowded market, shouldering past people who were much too busy clamoring for the freshest honeycakes to notice their Exalt walked among them. Chrom never flaunted the power of his station unless tradition demanded he do so, even now he wore only the colors of his house which marked him as a member of nobility but nothing more. Robin squeezed Chrom’s fingers with one hand and the locket at his breast with the other. The bright levity in his heart dimmed as they neared the Shepherd’s caravans. He resolutely wanted to protect Chrom, sometimes he fantasized they might find another time gate like the one Morgan came from and they could slip inside and live a different life. One where Chrom wasn't bound to a millennia-old oath and Grima didn't exist. 

But reality stayed the same: Chrom was the Exalt. Naga’s chosen hero. 

It wasn’t Chrom’s duty to gift Robin with lockets and honeycakes. It was his duty to sacrifice himself body and soul for the power to destroy darkness. A darkness which existed in Robin as much as it did their enemies. There wasn’t a path Robin could see that saved Chrom from bathing in Naga’s Flames in the Awakening Ritual at the summit of Mount Prism. Every step took them closer to that eventuality despite Robin’s erstwhile desire to keep Chrom safe. There was no stopping Chrom’s heroic destiny.

And sometimes, in the deepest, darkest hours of the night, Robin felt there was no stopping his own fell destiny--his fateful role as a living embodiment of destruction. Those were dire hours that left him shaking with rage, with self-pity, with an agony that sat in the marrow of his bones like sickness waiting to spread. Robin squeezed the locket harder, so hard he felt he could push it into the flesh of his hand and replace the ugly purple scrawl of his Fell Brand. Logically he knew that would never happen but still he held onto Chrom’s gift, fingers refusing to budge from a grip that left them as white as frost.

“Are you ready, my love?” Robin heard Chrom say. 

“Y--yes,” Robin mustered, consciously releasing the ache in his fingers. “Is everyone here?”

“We are ready to depart...finally,” Frederick announced, eyes briefly darting towards Sully and Stahl. “On your command Milord.”

Chrom released Robin’s hand and climbed atop a stone marker which sat adjacent the cobbled residential road. He flashed a bright grin as the Shepherds roused a cheer for their leader. “We all know what’s at stake here,” Chrom began. “So I don't think I need to emphasize the importance of our mission. But just know that you are by far the best that Ylisse has to offer, nay the best the world has to offer and I am simultaneously honored and humbled that you have chosen to follow me.”

“We’re getting paid, right?” Sully guffawed from the group, eliciting a round of snickers. Chrom indulged her snark with a genuine smile. Lucina, who had been mysteriously absent when Robin was readying the caravans earlier, turned towards Sully and shushed her loudly.

Chrom continued, “We don't know exactly what awaits us in Plegia but our path is clear. And let us be encouraged by the bonds we share to continue no matter how difficult things get, because there is no greater mission than to strive for a peaceful future for us and for our children.”

“Here here!” Sully shouted, pounding the butt of her lance against the weathered stones at her feet. It wasn’t long before every Shepherd joined her, shields clanking and unsheathed weapons striking the ground. Chrom leaped off his impromptu dais and landed lightly beside Robin.

“I’m impressed,” Robin told him. “Had Senior Advisor Villus been here he might have cracked a smile.”

Chrom rubbed the side of his neck. “I don’t think anything could move that man to smile. Least of all my words.”

“You might be right. Though anyone can see his fondness for Lucina. She’s like a granddaughter to him.”

“It’s just as well,” Chrom said. “Having him on her side will only make her transition into power easier.”

“Do you really think that old miser is going to be alive then?”

“Nothing is going to kill that man. Not even old age. He’ll outlive us all,” Chrom said with absolute certainty. 

“I believe you’re right,” Robin echoed. “And Ylisse is better for it.”

“I thought you hated that man,” Chrom teased as he helped Robin into the covered wagon at the head of the line. 

Robin turned about and grinned. “Well he did unwittingly play the role as our matchmaker. I’m very grateful for that.” He gently held the sides of Chrom’s face and kissed each cheek.

Chrom licked his lips. “Me too,” he chimed before easing in to capture Robin’s awaiting lips.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Someone, possibly Gaius, shouted from the rear wagons. 

“I suppose we’ve waited long enough. Are you ready?” Chrom asked, smiling. Robin could see disparity in Chrom’s eyes--a doubt that lived there despite his easy-going words.

“You ask me that a lot,” Robin said lowly. “Do you question my intent to follow you no matter where you go?”

“Not at all. I just like to ask you.”

“Yes,” said Robin. “I’m ready to follow you into every unknown you could possibly imagine.”

“Same here.”

Chrom turned to leap from the caravan but Robin’s hand on his arm stopped him. “I love you,” Robin uttered.

“And I love you,” Chrom whispered against Robin’s mouth before dropping to the ground and jogging towards Frederick, who patiently waited atop a powerful warhorse at the front of the line. 

Robin settled back into a nest of bear furs and sheepskins as the cart lurched forward. He agreed to take the last watch of the day so he wanted to rest as much as possible. Chrom had insisted on first watch so he marched at the head of the procession as they left Ylisstol and trundled into the surrounding meadows. Soon meadows were replaced by untamed plains, then a steep mountain pass which eased down into a hardwood forest. Then trees trickled away into arid shrubland and the dunes between Plegia and Ylisse that stretched beyond them like a vast, turbulent sea of sand.

They set up camp that first night a quarter days march from the entrance into Plegia. As the Shepherds sat around their fires eating their fill of hearty rabbit stew, Robin couldn't help but stare at the six tiny lights flickering astride the black silhouette of Plegia’s arched gates, like the sinister eyes and gaping, shadowy maw of something he wished was a figment of his imagination. Robin closed his eyes and willed away the dread gnawing a hole in his chest. 

_We’re going to challenge fate. We’re going to win._ he repeated silently.

Robin could think of nothing more to do about his dread so he busied himself washing supper bowls and stacking firewood. When everyone retired, including Chrom, he sat back down and resolutely steered his thoughts away from Plegia. He thought of Morgan back home and Lucina’s love of hideously patterned dresses. He thought about what sort of wedding ceremony Chrom might want. He thought of everything he could that didn’t remind him of tomorrow, remind him of his ties to Validar and Grima, remind him of the fact there was a version of the future in which he killed Chrom and betrayed Morgan’s love.

Quickly he realized that was an exercise in futility and sunk his head into his hands. The last watch of the night was long, lonely and full of visions Robin desperately wanted to leave behind like footprints in the sand.


	11. Woken Moon

The red-orange glow of imminent sunrise crested the eastern dunes just as Robin, Chrom and the Shepherds arrived at a solitary obsidian gate braced between a towering wall which divided the countries of Plegia and Ylisse. The four guards they met wore long, whispering black robes with gold ribboned epaulettes and ebony headdresses which descended into wooden masks, leaving only two broad holes for ample sight. Planted firmly at their sides were heavy gold and black laquered spears, unquestionably weapons of warfare despite their ornate beauty. The masks of each guard portrayed different animals native to Plegia. The man beneath a grinning wyvern addressed them first in accented Ylissean:

“Hail, Ylissean convoy. As per my orders from our High King, Eternal Patriarch Validar, I am to only speak with your Exalt.” The other guards subtly shifted back and plucked their spears from the ground but they did not appear aggressive. Simply cautionary.

Chrom dropped from his horse and approached the gate. “Hail. I am Exalt Chrom. I have your King’s writ if there are questions regarding our arrival.” He untucked Validar’s letter from his belt and held it out to the wyvern-masked guard.

“Why do you require such a large retinue for an amiable summons to our land?” The guard ignored Chrom’s outstretched hand and nodded towards the large caravans parked several feet away. “Why do you need so many wagons?”

Chrom reeled back his hand when the guard made no move to take his letter. “Ah, those are supplies,” he explained.

Robin, who stood behind Frederick just a few paces from Chrom, squeezed the silver locket between his fingers while he watched their exchange. Ultimately their goal was to leave several caravans parked at the border and take only a small wagon with them. Chrom needed to heighten the guards’ interests, enough to stoke their apprehension. 

“Supplies?” The guard asked unkindly. “The palace temple is not so far that you need so much equipment. I think it is best you...consolidate your belongings before you proceed, Exalt Chrom.” The wyvern-masked guard made a motion that spurred his comrades closer together, effectively blocking the gate.

“That’s...let me consult my advisors if you don’t mind.” Chrom walked back to Frederick and Robin. “Well?”

Robin spoke first. “We can unhook and saddle the workhorses then leave the last four wagons just off the road.”

“And what if the guards decide to inspect them while we are gone?” Frederick asked warily.

“Let them,” Robin said. “Either way the plan works.”

“Right. Okay.” Chrom breathed deeply before marching back to the wyvern-masked guard. “I understand your concern and I will leave four of the caravans here. We will take only the first one you see there.” He pointed. “It’s the smallest as well.”

The guard nodded slowly. “Agreed. Please leave all unnecessary belongings here.”

“Can you guarantee those supplies will remain untouched?” Chrom asked, face light despite a sharp edge to his words.

The Plegian guard crossed his fist over his heart and announced that no one would touch the belongings of Exalt Chrom and his retinue so long as those items remained on Ylissean land. Robin heard his declaration but didn’t care if he belted truth or intended to betray them. In the end all that mattered was the caravans remained at the border---one of the many pieces of Robin’s intricate escape plan.

Chrom commanded the Shepherds to move supplies to the front wagon and push the other four against the rutted shoulder of the road. Once that was done Chrom stood before the guard. 

“Are we sufficiently light-handed now?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

“You may proceed,” the man announced, commanding his men to stand aside with a quick gesture. Chrom mounted his white stallion and waved everyone forward. Robin saddled his own horse and maneuvered the mare into a trot behind Frederick’s warhorse. His eyes roamed over the masked guards’ as he passed through the gate, landing specifically on the one who had spoken with Chrom. The guard’s obsidian eyes met Robin’s, widening beyond his visors width before he thundered something in Plegian. Each guard hurriedly dropped to their knees.

Chrom met Robin’s bewilderment with a shrug and continued through the gate. Despite the fact Robin was Plegian, he didn’t understand the language well enough to know what the guard had said. He studied Plegian when he could but was far better at reading than communicating. 

“What did he say?” Frederick asked. Robin shook his head and watched the prostrated guards with a bad taste in his mouth.

A sunrise painted sky greeted the Shepherds on the other side of the gate as the hooves of their horses sunk into Plegia’s bleached sand. From the many maps he had studied Robin knew there were a few bustling towns to break up the monotony until Plegia's castle, oases that became hubs of commerce when the population expanded. The Shepherds would take rest in Nakhan by noon and stay overnight in Kisuhdet before arriving at the castle late tomorrow afternoon.

Robin carefully watched the last of the Shepherds thread the black gate. The guards didn't move from their humbled positions, spears pointed towards the sky. “Do you think they know who you are?” Chrom asked, nudging his stallion to pace with Robin’s mare.

“I don’t know. Does that look like a show of respect to you?” Robin asked, unable to tear his gaze away from the slowly diminishing figures.

“People bow to me all the time,” Chrom said casually. “Even though I don’t want them to. In most places that’s expected.”

“People bow to you, they don’t kneel,” Robin pointed out.

“This isn’t Ylisse. Maybe that’s how they offer respect.”

Robin wasn’t convinced but he soon gave up trying to understand the guards’ unwarranted reactions to his presence and faced the ocean of sand that awaited them. “This place is so barren.”

Even though Chrom said nothing at all Robin sensed a difference in opinion. “You don’t think so?”

“I think it’s more beautiful than it looks on the outside,” Chrom said.

“Really? I thought you hated this place.”

“I hated Gangrel. I hate Validar. I’m not sure how I feel about their worship of Grima as a whole, but I don’t hate Plegia.”

Robin considered Chrom’s words. “That’s...news to me.”

“Plegia’s people have little to do with its governance,” Chrom explained. “And many of them mourned Emmeryn’s death too. The fact is Plegia has never been our true enemy. Its people are just trying to survive, raise their children and protect their homes. My father demonized them for something he couldn't understand, then Gangrel’s madness drove them into a war no one wanted. All of the people here deserve peace too.”

Robin supposed he shouldn't find Chrom’s outlook so surprising. If anyone was driven by the prospect of peace between all nations it was Chrom. “Well that will make it infinitely easier to establish treaties between Plegia and Ylisse when Validar is taken out.”

“That’s right,” Chrom smiled. “When you’re King of Plegia we can--”

Chrom stopped, hands going slack on the reigns of his horse. The well-trained stallion kept pace with Robin’s horse while Chrom was horrified by his own words. “Oh my gods I can’t believe this is the first time we’re talking about this.”

“Making peace with Plegia?”

“No!” Chrom cried. “You’re Plegia’s heir. Gods how can we get married when we’re both supposed to rule different countries.”

Robin had thought about it many times. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

Instantly relieved, Chrom wiped his face. “Thank Naga. I don’t care what we have to do I just want to share my throne with you.”

“You will,” Robin reassured. “Just stop worrying about that detail. We still have a lot to accomplish before then.”

Chrom exhaled a loud breath before replying, “Right. One concern at a time.”

They continued along a supply route whose cobbled stones had long since been buried, marked only with milestones jutting from bone-white sand. With very few road markers it was easy to get lost unless one noted the varying slopes of the Spineback Mountain range to the west. Nakhan was nestled in the shadow of the two peaks on the eastern ridge of the mountain so the Shepherds followed Robin’s directions and slowly marched towards the outline he indicated. 

Finally, after what seemed an infinite rolling stone of repetitiveness, the many colored wall tents of Nakhan’s bustling market came into view. Silk streamers fastened to vaulted tent caps and carved posts swam in the sky like shining fish. There were more masked guards at the entrance but they didn’t stop the Shepherds from entering town.

In an effort to remain unnoticed, Robin pulled up his hood and wore a brown shawl over his Plegian cloak. Chrom laughed, joking that Robin needed to take camouflage lessons from Gaius. Indifferent to Chrom’s teasing, Robin hid beneath his disguise while directing the horses to a watering tent. Luckily most of the merchants spoke simple Ylissean so Frederick handled stabling their horses while Robin, Chrom and Gaius ventured into the crowded marketplace. 

High noon in a popular trading hub proved as crowded as Robin hoped. The fortuitous byproduct of so much activity was a distinct indifference to foreigners, even those from Ylisse. No Plegian merchant turned away their gold. Even small children begged them to buy decorative waterskins and jars of jellied succulents Robin assumed was a local specialty. 

“That’s Dragon’s Tongue,” Gaius said, lazily sucking honey drops. “It’s...an acquired taste.”

“I wonder if I’ve had it before,” Robin murmured as he declined a child’s enthusiastic solicitation. The young boy’s dismay disappeared from his face when he moved on to another potential customer.

“Maybe. Depends on how old you were when you left Plegia. But take my word for it Bubbles, you’re not missin’ much.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I ever belonged here in the first place,” Robin said. “Nothing feels familiar.”

“Does it seem odd that the guards let us in so easily?” Chrom suddenly asked as he dodged a gaggle of young girls racing through the crowded market streets, their silk skirts billowing around ankles festooned with tinkling bells. “No one is watching us.”

“Oh they’re watchin’ us alright.” Gaius licked his lips. “A woman’s been following us since we entered the wall market.”

“What? Where?” Chrom sharply whispered, following Gaius’ pointed look to a cat-masked guard leaning against the bleached brick of a weathered retaining wall. “How do you know that’s a woman?”

“I know,” Gaius said simply.

Robin pressed his lips into a teasing smile. “Should I be pleased that you didn’t notice her curves?”

“I only have eyes for you Robin, you know that,” Chrom muttered.

“She’s also a Dark Flier,” Gaius cut in. “Which means she can follow us anywhere.”

“Where’s her pegasus?” Chrom asked, looking up as if he expected the creature to be hovering overhead.

“Probably outside of town,” Robin guessed. “This isn’t really a problem for us though. I expected eyes on us at all times.”

Gaius mumbled ambiguously as he rummaged his vest pockets for another honey drop.

“You don’t agree?” Robin asked in a way that invited Gaius’ view on the matter.

“I think there’s more to it but that’s just the ol’ intuition squawking.” Gaius shrugged. “Not much we can do right now.”

The trio followed Gaius to an immense wall tent which took up the entire southeastern corner of town. Garish swathes of red and gold decorated every inch of the outside canvas and long thick curtains over the threshold shrouded the interior from outside eyes. There was a sign stitched in cursive script above the doorway which Robin had difficulty deciphering. He finally settled on “House of the Woken Moon.”

“Have you been here before?” Robin asked Gaius.

“Yeah...if you want to know what’s in the wind this is the place to go.”

“Right. Let’s go then,” Chrom strode forward.

Quicker than the eye Gaius pressed a hand to Chrom’s chest. “Hold up Blue. I think you should leave the talkin’ to me. Or Bubbles.”

“Oh…” Chrom said in a small voice. “Uh, sure.”

They moved towards the doorway before Gaius spun on his heels. “Oh and one more thing. Don’t let anyone give ya a hit on the Gape.”

“The what?” Chrom and Robin simultaneously asked.

Robin could tell Gaius fought down a smirk as he explained. “The Gape is what Plegian’s use to experience the infinite abyss of primordial chaos from which the world was born.”

Chrom’s wide, unblinking eyes held all of the same confusion Robin felt. “The what?”

Gaius popped another honey drop between his lips. “It’s a stupefying vapor that takes you on a wild ride.” His expression became uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t. Do. It.”

“You speak from experience,” Robin noted coolly.

“Yeah...and it’s not one I wanna repeat.” He cracked the candy between his lips and swallowed it down. “Let’s go.”

When Gaius swept aside the thick black curtain Robin was temporarily blinded as his eyes adjusted to the dusky interior. In Ylisse, local taverns had tables and chairs for patrons to sit on and socialize. That wasn’t the case in Plegia, plush red pillows with gold tassels piled haphazardly on the floor around knee-high lacquered tables. Patrons lounged on their sides, chatting lowly as they sipped from tiny silver cups and puffed aromatic pipes. A serving girl hidden behind gauzy veils, her bronzed arms sparkling with gold armlets, refilled decanters on the tables and distributed spreads of thick flatbreads and dried fruits. Robin saw no surprise in her eyes as she spotted the three of them loitering near the entrance. She silently gestured to an assortment of pillows around an empty table.

“Is there anything we shouldn’t do?” Chrom asked quietly. “Other than the primordial chaos thing you mentioned.”

“Just follow me and we’ll be fine.” Gaius pantomimed drinking from a cup as he lowered onto the pillows, the girl nodded and whisked behind a pair of drapes which presumably led to the kitchens. Before long she returned carrying a tray with three silver cups and a ceramic decanter. Chrom stared at the cup placed in front of him.

“This is safe to drink I presume?”

Gaius chuckled. “I didn’t mean to make you paranoid Blue. Yes, drink up. Plegia’s finest Parfianka awaits you.”

Robin sniffed the drink experimentally, the aroma of sweet wine filling his senses. He watched Gaius appreciatively sip his drink and did the same, eyes roaming over the patrons. Most of them appeared wealthy, adorned in embroidered silks and golden bands. Men and women sat together, their indistinct chatter punctuated by bells of laughter in an atmosphere much more subdued than the average Ylissean tavern.

Then Robin spotted her, the cat-masked guard who followed them earlier. He quickly checked to see if Gaius noticed her as well.

“Looks like the wind brought us more than words,” Gaius murmured and lifted his cup towards the woman. She was sitting alone at a table near the back, long fingers dancing over the rim of her drink. Her eyes moved from Gaius to Chrom before landing on Robin. Her keen gaze eviscerated Robin’s ease.

“How did she arrive before us? I didn’t see her come in,” Chrom said, gaze shifting to Robin.

“She was definitely here before us,” Gaius noted mildly. “There’s probably a back entrance.”

Without breaking Robin’s gaze the woman calmly rose from her seat and shortened the distance between them with purposeful strides, long legs carrying her curvaceous frame with feline-like grace. Soon she stood over their table, black-washed nails lightly tapping her cup.

Gaius was the first to speak. “We were wondering when you might join us. Please, have a seat.” He reached for the decanter and meaningfully eyed her cup. 

Her silver eyes sparkled and she sat down opposite Robin before sliding her cup across the laquered table. Gaius filled it to the brim then lifted his own cup before taking a long appreciative sip. Her cup remained untouched as she carefully watched him. Then she turned to Robin, eyes crinkling with amusement. Robin met her gaze like a shield meeting a lancer’s charge, inviting her into a battle of words. She had something to say, that much was obvious. 

Robin sipped his drink, licking the pomegranate juice from his lips then addressed her. “Do you know who I am?”

Laughter reverberated from her mask, eyes alight with amusement and...something else. Something darkly inviting. Slowly she reached for her mask and slid it free revealing a face Robin had seen before. He remembered her from Ylisse’s war with Plegia only a few years ago. 

“Aversa,” Robin announced. “I would say it’s nice to see you again but that would be a lie.”

“Oh Robin,” Aversa purred, her dark lips drawn into a deliberate pout. “I’m torn. On the one hand I’m so very glad you remember me. On the other hand you don’t seem pleased by my presence.”

The moment Aversa revealed her face Chrom tensed beside Robin. The wine in his cup sloshed against the rim as his hands shook. Robin reached his fingers to Chrom’s to quell his anxiety. “Surely you’re not as dumb as you look Aversa.”

Instantly Aversa’s playful expression became cold, silver eyes as white as frost. “Looks like someone doesn’t want to play. That’s too bad. I have information I thought you might like to hear, but now I’m not in the mood to talk.”

She reached for her mask, eyes spitting daggers towards Robin but stopped when Gaius laid a hand to her arm. “Don’t listen to him,” Gaius beseeched with a charming smile. “He has no experience indulging in conversation with a delectable woman such as yourself.”

Aversa brushed pale tresses from her face, clearly affronted but suitably mollified by Gaius’ charm. She left her mask on the table and unfastened a clasp at her throat, silk robes sliding from her dusky shoulders and showing off a revealing feathered bodice. “There, that’s better,” she said and took a dainty sip from her cup. She winked at Gaius. “I’m glad someone here knows how to play. Ylissean’s are so dull.” 

Chrom remained silent, Robin could only imagine all of the difficult emotions boiling beneath his neutral expression. Aversa wasn’t directly responsible for Emmeryn’s death but she played a large part in everything which led to the death of Chrom’s older sister. She had been the Mad King’s right hand during the events of the war and had done nothing to absolve herself of those atrocities. Still, Gaius had a point. If they wanted more information on the state of Plegia and its political maneuvers then they needed to play nice.

“I’m assuming whatever information you have to give is part of Validar’s plan,” Robin said plainly.

“What a tragically informal way of addressing our Eternal Patriarch,” she sniffed. “Though I suppose his own son can get away with such informality. Besides, these are auspicious times, spending too much energy on such trivialities seems pointless.” 

“Well...that answers my earlier question,” Robin told her. “You seem suspiciously willing to talk.”

“Oh sweety, I’m suspiciously willing to do a lot more than just talk,” she teased. “Although you don’t fancy women so maybe I’m wasting my time.”

Chrom’s mouth formed a tight frown as he told her, “Flirting with Robin will get you nowhere. Do you actually have something to say or are you wasting _our_ time?”

Aversa pursed her lips before the spark of an epiphany lanced over her face. “Ahh I see now. Yes, I should have seen it sooner actually.” She reclined comfortably on the pillows behind her. “Whatever will our Great Patriarch do when he finds out his only son is bonded to Ylisse’s Exalt?”

“I don’t care what he thinks about my relationship with Chrom.” Robin squeezed Chrom’s hand, knowing Chrom needed no reassurance of his devotion. He mostly did it to make a point, not to mention the worn calluses of Chrom’s hand were always comforting. “So you said something about our arrival being auspicious?”

Aversa laughed unkindly. “Oh you thought I was talking about you? In fact I was not.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

She delighted in their attention and laboriously inspected her nails before answering. “Not a what. A who.”

Robin’s gut instinct thrummed, plucked like the chord of an unsettling melody. Her response was deeply worrying despite its ambiguity. “Are you going to tell us who you’re talking about or bask in the suspense?”

She did indeed bask in their suspense like a cat lazing in a slice of sunlight. Her delight was nauseating. “I could tell you...but where’s the fun in that?”

“Okay, so you’re just wasting our time afterall,” Chrom announced, quaffing his drink like he wanted to dull his senses as quickly as possible. “We’re leaving.”

It was Gaius who stopped Chrom. “Not so fast Blue. You have to understand the steps of the dance if you want to win over the crowd.”

Aversa’s eyes glittered, pleased. “What’s your name? I don’t think I remember you.”

“My name isn’t important,” Gaius mused. “I’m much more interested in what you have to say.”

“Is that right? Well that makes you twice the gentleman these idiots are.”

Robin listened intently, Chrom wisely ignored her barb. Everything Aversa said was bait anyway. Gaius knew as much but he wasn’t above indulging her ego, unlike Robin and Chrom who had more than enough reason to regard Aversa’s games with hostility.

“I am inclined to agree,” Gaius smirked.

“So...what do you want to know? Perhaps my favorite drink? I am a woman who delights in more than decorum.”

“Then you are in luck. Decorum evades me unless it has everything to do with fine liquor. Let me guess…” He sipped idly at his wine. “You look like a woman of robust tastes. I’m thinking...fermented blood worm?”

Aversa cooed appreciatively. “So close. It’s Adraja’s Rouge.”

“Is that right?” Gaius’ eyes swept the room and found the young serving girl. She nodded solemnly and finished wiping down a table before pacing to Gaius, thin arms curled around an empty serving tray. Robin wondered if she ever spoke because she acknowledged Gaius’ request with a small incline of her chin then scuffled through the back curtain.

“Apparently you are a man with money as well,” Aversa noted lightly. “I’m pleasantly surprised, and quite certain you’re not Ylissean.”

“I’ve lived in more places than you can imagine.”

“Never doubt the power of a woman’s imagination,” Aversa insisted playfully. 

The two of them exchanged frivolous banter until two tall flutes of crimson liquid were set on the table accompanied by wedges of a white fruit Robin had never seen before. Aversa licked her lips as she dropped one of the wedges into her drink. Robin marveled as the fruit dissolved into a cloud of gold. Gaius clinked his glass against Aversa’s and they drank deep before breathing twin sighs of pleasure. “That’s good,” Gaius commented, wiping the corners of his mouth.

“Only the best,” Aversa chimed. “Now that I’m suitably appeased, you may ask your most burning questions.”

“Alright.” Gaius folded his arms on the table and leaned closer. “Who recently came to Plegia?”

“Our Hierophant. The highest of His order,” she spoke quietly as if what she said was supposed to be a secret. Clearly it wasn’t, otherwise she wouldn’t be so forward. “He has returned after an overlong absence and portends things to come.”

“Things?”

“Oh yes. Things I cannot implicitly state in current company you understand. All you need know is that good things are coming.”

“Good for who? You?”

“Alas I play only a minuscule part in these events, but I am pleased to a part of them nonetheless.”

Gaius frowned into his drink. “Is the arrival of your Hierophant the reason Validar sent us his invitation?” Robin sensed Gaius’ unease as keenly as he felt his own.

“Why...I do believe those two things are related. The High King was so delighted by our Hierophant's return he decided to grace you with a most generous offer.”

Chrom looked to Robin. “Validar...delighted? That sounds dire.”

“Indeed,” Robin mumbled.

“I take it we’re going to meet with this Hierophant as well?” Gaius continued.

Aversa’s smile veered into a sharp grin. “Of course. In fact…” She leaned across the table, nails planted into the lacquered wood like talons. “He’s wanted to meet you for some time.” It was clear the way her gaze shifted that she meant Robin and not Gaius or Chrom. The reaction of the guard’s at the gate to Robin’s presence suddenly implied a great many things.

Robin swallowed around lump of cold dread. “Because of the Hierophant’s return Validar is willing to give us what we want?”

“His only wish is to share the Hierophant’s gifts with the world,” she said, eyes alight with something Robin placed as zealous fervor. “Plegia will once again become a seat of influence. We have no need for trinkets such as the Fire Emblem.” Robin didn’t believe her for a second.

“Are you saying this man is more important than Validar?” Gaius asked, scrutinizing.

Her dark lips suggested a hint of amusement. “Think of it like...a sword. Yes, one much like your Falchion I suppose. The blade is the focal point of any sword but it needs a handle in order to be used. The High King is our sword’s handle.”

“He sounds like a puppet,” Robin sneered. He didn’t like anything she was saying. Either this Hierophant was a pawn, or Validar was at the mercy of the man’s power. No good came from either scenario.

“If you knew him you wouldn’t say such a thing,” Aversa told him seriously. “You will have your answer soon enough I suppose.” She downed her drink with practiced ease and fastened her silken cloak around her shoulders. She grinned impishly at the three men before replacing the wooden cat mask. “You should leave soon if you want to make good time to Kisuhdet. The weather here can change at a moments notice.”

“Thank you for the pleasure of your company,” Gaius sweetly told her.

“Oh honey,” she mooned over her shoulder, “I’m following your little band from here on out.” She possibly winked in Chrom’s direction as she did this but Robin couldn’t tell for certain. The feline smile painted on her mask likely mirrored her own unseen smirk. “Wouldn't want you to get lost now would we?”

She didn’t wait for a response and swiftly left the tavern. Chrom watched her leave with a worrying frown. “This is bad,” he said at last.

“We should have expected as much,” Robin added, finishing his wine. “Validar trusts us about as much as we trust him.”

“What could we possibly do? We’re the ones who are sitting ducks in a sea of sand. He holds all of the cards.”

Chrom was right. They all knew it. There were ways they could have sabotaged the negotiations but such options hardly handed them an advantage. The most they could do was plan their escape once they possessed the last Sacred Stone.

Getting Chrom out of Plegia alive was Robin’s foremost goal.

“I think our conversation with Aversa proved more useful then ya think,” Gaius spoke up. “We learned two things we didn’t know before.” He held up two fingers and ticked one down. “First, some religious leader is here to rile up the Grimleal. And Second, they absolutely need the Fire Emblem in order to launch whatever crazy plan he has in store for the rest of the world.”

Chrom’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

Robin swept cold fingers across his brow. “It’s true. She brought up the Fire Emblem trying to expel our suspicions but only made it obvious that’s Validar’s ultimate goal.”

Chrom managed a weak smile. “That’s okay right? We knew he wanted the Fire Emblem for himself. We planned for that.”

“We did,” Robin reassured.

“Let’s not forget that the Grimleal are planning on another war,” Gaius whispered harshly. “Did anyone expect that so soon after the last one?”

“Validar thinks that once he claims the Fire Emblem he doesn't need numbers in order to declare war on the rest of the world,” Robin explained. “Think about what Lucina and Morgan found out about the Fire Emblem from the archives.” 

Faced with twin bewildered expressions Robin continued. “The Fire Emblem isn’t just an artifact of Naga. It has historical ties with earth dragons...perhaps even Grima specifically. We don’t know how he plans on resurrecting Grima but I’m pretty sure the Fire Emblem has something to do with it.”

There was an eerie silence in the tavern that Robin finally noticed. Several eyes were on them, quiet and cold. “I think...we should go.”

Gaius leaped from his seat and stacked a small tower of gold coins on the table. “Too right Bubbles.” He made a beeline for the entrance and both Chrom and Robin wasted no time following.

True to her word Aversa waited for them outside. She sat daintily on a clay storage jar inspecting her nails. They ignored her and moved back into the hustle and bustle of the markets. Robin felt, rather than saw, her presence behind them.

“Talk about an ominous shadow,” Chrom muttered. Robin didn’t know if he referred to Aversa or news about Grimleal forces rallying once again, but he agreed either way.

“Father!” Lucina’s voice carried over the din of the crowd. She waved to them from the stabling arena where their horses drank water from deep troughs. Frederick stood beside her looking every inch a loyal and attentive retainer.

“Lucina, are you okay?” Chrom asked hurriedly.

Lucina looked perplexed. “Of course...the people here have been nothing but kind. Is something amiss?” Her question was silently answered when Aversa, still wearing the cat mask, stepped around them. “Who is this?”

“Aversa,” Chrom glared. “She was sent by Validar to watch us.”

Lucina reached for her sword before Aversa admonished her with a cluck of her tongue. “Stay your sword. I am guide to lead you to the temple palace. Nothing more.”

“You’re a witch,” Frederick snarled. “No good can come of your presence.”

Aversa hummed flirtatiously, gently sliding a finger up Frederick’s chest plate. He smacked her hand away. “Like I said. Ylissean’s are dull.” She sauntered back behind Chrom, hands resting on her hips.

“Father...?” Lucina asked, brow marred with worry. 

“It’s okay,” Chrom assured. “This changes nothing.”

Yet Aversa’s presence was felt throughout the Shepherds ranks like a menacing swell. When they returned to the sea of sand that awaited them outside the city gates, the shadow of her black pegasus fell upon them as she free-wheeled overhead. The disconcerting tilt of her sudden appearance filled the spaces between the ungainly lurch of their supply wagon pulled by workhorses ill-suited for sand and a chilling gust sweeping from the north. Aversa was right: the weather was changing.

By the time they reached Kisuhdet it was nightfall, and that northerly current was a howl of blistering sand. Aversa’s pegasus swooped between twin sandstone towers into an enclosed roosting platform for pegasi while the Shepherds funneled through a well-worn of gate. Plegian guards hurried everyone inside then blew a sharp horn that goaded four mammoth bulls, their tethers tugged at the great stone doors until they closed with a thundering groan. Lookout towers were shuttered, though still occupied, and beacon lights stoked into roaring fires glowing bright through vents hewn from their stone lofts. The sandstorm had effectively closed Kisuhdet for the night.

Tucked safely behind lofty sandstone walls, the Shepherds herded into the traveler parlors to stable horses and rent rooms. Kisuhdet was different than Nakhan--it was many times larger and specialized in agriculture rather than trading. It also had an urban sprawl with permanent stone housing and ingeniously engineered sub-aqueducts that funneled underground springs to wells and crops. For the first time since he entered Plegia, Robin found himself fascinated.

“This is quite a city,” Chrom remarked. He stood beside Robin on a stone paved road watching globe lanterns flicker lowly on curved hooks mounted above butcher shops and weathered residences. Robin suspected this was a rundown section of the city where they liked to place itinerants and outsiders—far away from the city’s epicenter.

“It’s still much smaller than Ylisse,” Robin said. 

Chrom’s returned smile suggested he knew Robin was impressed but didn’t want to show it. “You know, liking something Plegian doesn’t make you any less Ylissean.”

Robin snorted. “Just you wait. First I like the architecture, then the clothing...until finally it ends with you finding me in a tavern high on Gape and stuffed with Dragon’s Tongue.”

Chrom made a face. “Okay don’t go overboard. You’re not Gaius.” They laughed, and the sound of it released some of the tension strapped to Robin's shoulders. 

“Don’t worry. I’m certain only Gaius can be Gaius.” They fell into an amicable silence, then Robin dragged a hand through his sand-blasted hair. He could still hear wind snarling above them, gnawing at the city’s walls like a tireless wolf. “We should probably turn in early. I’m pretty tired.”

Chrom's arm curled around Robin’s shoulders. “Frederick advised as much, but I’m pretty sure no one listened. Except Lucina.”

“Where did everyone go?” Robin asked. After he had passed his exhausted mare to the Plegian horsemaster and secured a room, Robin had stepped out into the chill night air for a breath and some solitude. Chrom had seen him leave of course and followed, but Robin didn’t mind Chrom’s company. He found that usually when he wanted solitude, he actually just wanted to stand quietly beside Chrom and just...breathe.

“Frederick is still securing our supplies bless his wary heart. I believe Gaius and Sumia ventured into the city as soon as they handed off Sumia’s pegasus. Lissa, Maribelle and Ricken went looking for a hat shop if you can believe that.”

“With Maribelle involved? Yes I can.”

“Sully and Stahl are out there too, probably looking for a card table. And...the rest I’m unsure about. Once Frederick reserved the rooms everyone scattered.”

Robin scrubbed sand from his eyebrows. “Makes sense. This is our last night before--” He paused, uncertainty silencing his parched throat.

“Before we get the last Sacred Stone we need for the Fire Emblem,” Chrom finished, tone resolute. He squeezed Robin’s shoulder.

“...yeah,” Robin finally agreed.

“What do you want to do,” Chrom asked lightly.

Robin didn’t know how to answer that question. He wanted to do a lot of things, most of all he wanted to go back. Go back to that moment in time when everything made sense. When his deepest concerns were eating salad with the wrong fork and forgetting to sign a document before it was sent to the Council. When he and Chrom shared breakfasts on the en suite balcony...and a bed for an entire week.

“So…” Robin began, hooded eyes moving across Chrom’s broad shoulders. “No one is sleeping at the inn right now?”

Chrom's sunburned cheeks visibly brightened. “Just Lucina, and maybe Frederick.”

“I see...Well I still think I should turn in early. Would you care to join me?” Robin’s invitation was clear and Chrom wasted no time in accepting it. 

“I wish we were there right now,” Chrom breathed between them. He wrapped his arms around Robin and sighed languidly across the shell of his ear before whispering, “I can think of no greater purpose than pleasing you right now.”

Robin trembled. They shared a hasty kiss before eagerly rocketing down the road, boots pounding paved stones and breaths shuddering above the din of the storm wailing above the city. They rounded the corner of an animal feed shop that had closed for the night before stuttering to a stop. A Plegian guard stood in the middle of the deserted road. It only took a moment for Robin to recognize the familiar shape of her mask.

“Aversa,” he growled, catching his breath.

“Aww Birdy,” she said, unveiling a grin as she removed her mask. “You make my heart pitter-pat when you say my name.”

“What do you want?” Chrom glowered, tightly squeezing Robin’s hand. 

“I want to talk,” she said, as if they were old friends. As if she was actually welcome to have conversations with them whenever she wanted.

“We’re busy,” Chrom replied stiffly, marching forward with Robin in tow.

Aversa whined theatrically. “Too bad…” Both Chrom and Robin were already stomping down the road when the rest of her words reached them. “I wanted to talk about Robin’s son.”

Robin snatched a peek at Chrom’s face and saw it drained of color, likely as pale as his own. They turned in unison back to Aversa who met them with a broad, satisfied grin. “Ah. There’s the attention I wanted.”

Robin sought the familiar curve of his locket as he addressed her. “If you are here to make threats against my son I will use every ounce of my strength to make certain you severely regret that choice.”

Aversa placed hand against her chest, aghast. “Why I would never dream of such a thing.” Her black heels clacked against the paved stone as she closed the distance between them. “Even though I hardly know him I would never harm him.”

Deciphering the fact from fiction in Aversa’s words proved difficult. It was wise to assume nothing she told them was genuine. “I find it hard to believe you care,” Robin bit out. He didn't know if she knew Morgan personally, and he didn't want to think about all of the convoluted problems that small detail elicited. Instead he concentrated on the paternal fear squeezing his chest. 

“Well, that’s because I don’t,” she admitted without batting an eye. “That’s not why I brought him up.”

“Then why did you,” Chrom demanded, sounding every inch a protective father. 

“I find it strange he’s not with you.”

“This is a warzone as far as I’m concerned and he’s a child. It doesn't take a genius to solve that puzzle.”

Aversa drew a hand to her chin, thoughtful. “And yet here I am, still puzzling. Are you quite certain the boy is back in Ylisse?”

Chrom’s entire body tensed before his hand reflexively landed on Falchion’s pommel. “ _That_ sounds like a threat.”

Despite the anger thrumming through Robin’s body he gently reminded Chrom that Aversa was a Plegian guard in a Plegian city. They couldn't openly fight her in the streets. “I agree with Chrom,” Robin said. “So why don’t you get to the point of this conversation before we all regret it.”

She rocked on her heels, fingers laced behind her back. “Well, I think if I had a son I would want him by my side no matter what.” She shrugged. “But maybe that’s a bit overprotective. What do I know, I can hardly stand children.” Then she yawned dramatically, body unfurling into a feline stretch.

“That was a lot of insinuation for such an anticlimactic end,” Robin huffed, eyes narrowing. “You didn't strike me as a woman who likes to waste time.” Nothing about Aversa made sense even on the best of days, but everything she did now set off an array of warning bells in Robin’s head.

Aversa shrugged. “Who said I wasted _my_ time? Perhaps this was a waste of your time but if you thought about it a bit longer you might find something useful. And here I thought you were a genius?” She chuckled lightly. “I think I’ll go have a nice aromatic bath while you two adorable simpletons figure it out.”

Neither Chrom nor Robin stopped Aversa as she spun on her heel and sauntered away, black robes whispering in the breeze. Robin’s mouth opened like he wanted to stop her, he wanted to know more, but it seemed a fruitless endeavor. Aversa spoke to them in riddles, it was clear whatever information she wanted to share intended confusion.

“Frederick is right,” Chrom sighed. “That woman is a witch.” 

Robin couldn't help but stifle a laugh in light of a portentous heaviness in the air. Chrom’s lips urged into a reactive grin as Robin said, “That’s tame compared to what I think of her.” 

Chrom tugged Robin close and breathed against his shoulder. “I love you.”

Robin’s fingers twisted the folds of Chrom’s cloak tight, emotions off-tilt like a ship about to capsize. “I love you too.”

They breathed in bated silence until Chrom spoke. “Did she really threaten Morgan?”

“...I don’t know. I feel like she just wanted to rile us,” Robin admitted, nose buried against Chrom’s chest. “Morgan is safe in Ylisse. He agreed to stay…” As the words left Robin’s lips he had a horrible thought. What if Morgan didn't wait for their return? He had been so dead set on coming to Plegia that maybe--

“Morgan is safe,” he heard Chrom say. “And it does us no good to fret over her words.”

Robin clung to Chrom. “What if he--”

Chrom shushed him gently. “He’s _safe_.”

Right. Safe. He should know better than to let Aversa’s baseless suggestions get inside his head. Closing his eyes, Robin pressed his ear against Chrom's chest and concentrated on the reassuring drum of his lover's heartbeat. “Do you still want to turn in early?” Robin asked, gliding his fingers around Chrom's neck.

Chrom’s brilliant smile lifted Robin’s heart. “Of course.”

They continued to the traveler parlors, perhaps with a little less urgency, but all of their previous zeal came back once they reached their room. In the cool dark, wind baying into a moonless night, Robin accepted every offer of Chrom’s affection, every whisper of devotion and every kiss of adoration. A love like theirs weathered storms and illuminated the darkness; it was boundless and powerful. 

More powerful than prophecy, than fire…

Than death itself.


	12. Morgan

A bright morning sun glared from an endless stretch of cloudless sky, the only trace of the previous night’s storm were new layers of alabaster sand meticulously swept away from steps and windowsills. The Shepherds roused with the sun and, once they had dressed, eaten and packed, ambled through Kisuhdet’s looming stone gates, horses slogging through drifts until their hooves found purchase at the foot of Plegia’s largest mountain. Toothy sedimentary rock crashed into stratums of rough sandstone stained black with large deposits of iron and basalt. The mountain itself resembled the armor of a dragon-like creature, all rough scales and sharp spikes. Truthfully it wasn’t made of dragonbone, like most Plegian poets would like to think. No, this mountain was just rock and sand. The real dragon bones were part of Plegia Castle which sat in the yawning hollowed mouth of a dragon's skull. Clearing the shadow of the mountain base revealed their final destination. Plegia Castle glistened stark black on a plane of white, embraced by the bleached bones of what was once a colossal dragon. 

Legend extolled those were the remains of Grima, sealed into slumber a thousand years ago by Chrom’s Falchion-wielding ancestor. Robin believed those tales the longer he gazed at the toothy maw where Plegia’s obsidian towers soared into the sky. The shadowed eye-sockets of the once great beast seemed to consider their approach and Robin half-expected it rise from its ancient bed to slaughter them.

“Wow,” Robin heard Lissa exclaim. “That’s...not real is it?”

“It’s real,” Chrom told her, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed with something akin to uneasy resolve. “Long dead from the power of the Unsealed Falchion.”

“You mean someone slayed _that_ thing with a sword?” she asked, disbelieving.

“Did you think Falchion was just a fancy knife or something?” Chrom joked, though it fell flat from the obvious tension in his voice. Lissa responded with a sisterly raspberry.

Worry marked the faces of the Shepherds, each gazing at the skeletal monstrosity as if it was Grima reborn. Though the bones were lifeless, eroded over the centuries under an unforgiving sun, they instilled a cold, visceral fear. Robin’s gaze shifted to Chrom who wore his anxious frown with regality, mouth drawn tight and eyes alive with the same determination he had before their last battle on Valm. He gently tugged Chrom’s hand into his own.

“He didn’t do it alone,” Robin told him.

Chrom’s frown deepened. “What?”

“The First Exalt. When he defeated Grima, he wasn’t alone.”

Chrom’s entire face lifted. “You’re right my love. He didn’t do it alone.” They shared a brief moment of reassurance before Chrom addressed the Shepherds. “Alright. This is our last check before entering the castle. Is everything in order?” 

The shadow of Aversa’s black pegasus drifted over them, reminding everyone that one of Validar’s agents could hear every word. Sumia was the first to speak up, eliciting shocked stares from everyone except Gaius who grinned with pride. “The pegasus knights are ready and accounted for Captain!” Her voice was too eager, too loud, but there wasn't a trace of her characteristic timidity.

“Very good Sumia,” Chrom said with a firm nod. “And what of the…” He suddenly stopped when his gaze found Gaius sporting a triumphant smirk. Chrom breathed a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not saying it Gaius.”

“You have to Blue,” Gaius told him.

“Gods…” Chrom muttered before squashing his discomfort. “And what about the...Sugar Daddies?”

A wave of giggles crashed through their ranks, accompanied by Lissa’s outrage. “Gaius! You can’t call yourselves that!”

“Yes I can Princess,” Gaius defended. “Until we recruit some fine, upstanding lady spies there’s nothing stopping me.” 

Lissa grumbled, very nearly resisting the urge to smack him before marching over and doing just that. “That one’s for Sumia!” 

“Ow! What the--how did I offend Sumia?” He rubbed his arm petulantly.

“She’s your girlfriend!” Lissa cried. “Of course she’s offended that you’re calling yourself a sugar daddy!” Well, if Sumia and Gaius’ newfound relationship was a secret, the secret was out. Gaius looked both angry and terrified for one long moment before Sumia gently touched his shoulder. 

“I’m not offended,” she said sweetly. “Just don’t expect me to actually call you that.”

Gaius’ jaw nearly dropped to his feet and, because everyone loved him, they all had a raucous laugh at his expense. Robin expected to see Gaius truly embarrassed for the first time since they met but it never came. Instead he gazed at Sumia with something much too private and sincere to trivialize with words.

Chrom calmed down the crowd and moved on. “Okay okay. Next group--Clerics!”

“I believe everything is in order,” Maribelle replied elegantly. “My dearest?” She tapped Lissa’s shoulder and calmly requested her attention.

“Oh! Yeah! We’re ready. And we don't use stupid names either,” Lissa said, adding another barb of condemnation towards Gaius. 

“Jealousy doesn't suit you Princess,” he sniffed.

Chrom made two sharp claps with his hands. “Okay, you two can take this elsewhere. This is important.”

“Sorry,” Lissa and Gaius replied in unison, mildly shocked they finally agreed on something.

As Chrom went through the ranks--Mounted Knights, Phalanx Troops, Calvary Mages, Infantry Mages, Sword Vanguard--Robin watched Aversa float lazy circles above them, cat-mask grin peeking between shifting feathers. He wondered what her game was as she ostensibly escorted them to the castle, frustrated he couldn’t determine her true purpose for following them. Robin felt Chrom’s fingers brush a lock of side-fringe behind his ear.

“Are you ready?” Chrom asked, eyes searching Robin's as if he hoped to find his own resolve.

Robin hesitated. In truth he wasn’t ready. He was afraid, and standing on that mound of sand above the embodiment of everything he hated and feared certainly didn’t ease his distress. But Chrom needed him. The Shepherds needed him. Lucina needed him. Morgan needed him. He tightly gripped the locket at his breast. Chrom noticed and pulled Robin into a firm, much needed embrace. _I can’t do this without you._ Robin heard, though the words were the barest of breaths against his cheek.

_I know._ He wanted to tell Chrom. _Something bad is about to happen. I can feel it._ Those words refused to leave his throat, pulled back by fear, anger, and a frailty he vehemently loathed to admit. He squeezed Chrom’s shoulders with both hands before pulling away. “Let’s go.” Those words carried a far greater confidence than Robin thought possible. Chrom nodded.

“Let’s go!” Chrom echoed to the group which erupted with boisterous hurrahs. Robin watched in horror as the workhorses tethered to the caravan jolted forward, wildly charging down the sandy slopes. Ricken, at least Robin assumed it was Ricken given the hilarious size of his mage hat, gave out a helpless cry as he tried steering the supply wagon. Sully, Stahl and Lucina all rushed to his rescue, sufficiently guiding the startled horses.

“What spooked them?” Chrom wondered aloud. Aversa glided behind the wagon, tilting the left wing of her pegasus to round on the workhorses once they finally lost steam at the bottom of the hill. She landed and gently padded the noses of the jumpy spotted browns. Sully’s sharp reprimand echoed across the sandbanks and Robin instantly felt sorry for Ricken.

The last few leagues to the castle were thankfully uneventful. The dragon skeleton was just as intimidating up close, if not more so given its nearly incomprehensible size. The toothy maw which seemed to sport a devilish grin brandished rows of teeth which dwarfed their largest warhorses. Undaunted, the troops soldiered on. Robin quietly contemplated their odds of surviving a battle with a dragon. 

Aversa’s presence meant they needn’t stop and request admittance at the gates. The guards instantly opened the huge, blackstone gates and mutely watched the Shepherds file into the outer courtyard. Plegia Castle was actually a huge temple complex with expansive garden courtyards, each caged by great black marble columns swathed in wooded vines. Pomegranate, apricot, peach and fig trees grew beautifully in expertly maintained yards, while pale flowers Robin never expected to thrive in winter--even one's as mild as Plegia’s--adorned the flawless verge of the smooth stone walkway to the Inner Sanctum. There were guards stationed at every outer door but none of them spoke. Aversa led Chrom, Robin and the rest of the group to a magnificently carved gate flanked by curtains of trumpet flowers. She dismounted her black pegasus and blew a small silver whistle shaped like a horse. The pealing cry was met by an entourage of eager horsemasters. 

“No animals beyond this point,” she informed. “Taguels excluded of course.”

Panne, the only Taguel in their ranks, muttered crossly. Robin ignored Aversa’s substandard insult. “And where are you keeping our horses and pegasi?”

“Fret not darling. They will be suitably cared for. You can find them in the western courtyard after your audience with Eternal Patriarch Validar and the Hierophant.” 

Robin frowned. He suspected they wouldn’t have quick access to their mounts, but that made him no less concerned. “And what about a show of good faith on your part?”

A secretive smile glided across her painted lips. “We Grimleal are all about faith my dear but I suppose I can allow your weapons into the Sanctum.” She winked. “Not that you will need them of course.”

“Of course,” Robin replied, mistrust souring his tongue.

The Plegian horsemasters rounded up the Ylissean steeds, unhitched the Shepherd’s small wagon, and quickly funneled everything through a gate at the end of the courtyard. Robin instinctively reached for the tome holster sewn inside his cloak and unstrapped the first lacing while following Aversa through the now open door to the Inner Sanctum, Chrom right on his heels. The antechamber was sunless, illuminated by glazed bowls of floating wicks twisted into the shape of Grima’s six-eyed brand. Black silk curtains concealed everything except a long hallway which ended at the foot of a stepped incline.

Aversa’s black heels clacked on the stone as she ascended the staircase, followed by a jumble of creaking armor and scattered whispers. The stairway was narrow, only wide enough for three people--less for their shield bearers--and the cramped space heightened Robin’s barking nerves. Chrom caught Robin’s eye and offered a small, reassuring nod. Robin returned a smile though it did nothing to squash his trepidation. After what seemed an overly long climb they reached the top which opened into a cavernous main chamber. The ceiling vaulted into darkness, too high for the light from floating wicks to reach, though the rest of the chamber was adequately lit. Columns wrapped in scrolling gold text, ceremonial by appearance, lined the path to a six-sided dais at the end of the chamber.

Validar waited for them on the dais, flanked by a diminutive woman with short pale hair draped in a rich violet cloak. Was that the Hierophant? Robin didn't think so, Aversa had distinctly told them it was a man. Aversa’s sharp steps continued, unperturbed by the Shepherd’s hesitation to follow. Chrom signaled the Shepherds to file behind him but he made no move to press forward. Robin tucked beside Chrom.

“I don’t see the Hierophant,” he said, discreet. The emptiness of the chamber carried his voice despite his effort.

Chrom nodded then signaled for the Shepherds to move out. They rattled down a dark-blue tiled walkway, flinted crystal blinking like stars beneath their boots. Validar greeted them with a wide sweep of his arms.

“Greetings Exalt Chrom,” he said with an expansive smile that looked wrong between his pointed chin and too narrow gaze. “I bid you welcome to Lord Grima’s temple. You have been treated well since your arrival I presume?”

Aversa stepped up to Validar, securing the empty space on his left. “Of course my Eternal Lord.” Validar arched one thin eyebrow towards Chrom, an inquiry.

“Yes, Lord Validar. We have been treated well,” Chrom replied formally.

From his place at Chrom’s side, Robin studied the small woman next to Validar. No, not woman. A child, likely no older than Morgan. Her large grey eyes appeared nearly silver in the ambient light, and her cropped hair equally lustered. Her child-like face juxtaposed the intense, almost manic scrutiny of her gaze. When she caught Robin staring at her she smiled, fierce and sharp as if she could scavenge all of his secrets with a single look. He found he couldn’t--and didn’t want to--hold her gaze, quickly darting back to Validar.

“Good good,” Validar continued amiably. “And you, Lord Tactician? Were you...suitably appeased?”

Validar’s words overflowed with unspoken barbs. As did the subtle smirk ghosting his too wide mouth. Robin didn’t rise to the bait. That man’s foul voice invaded his head months ago and he wasn't about to show weakness now. “Of course. This is a beautiful country.” 

“I’m pleased you think so,” said Validar. He exchanged a sidelong glance with the young girl at his right before raising his hands in supplication. “Oh where are my manners! I nearly forgot the introductions. Aversa you know, of course. Enchanting woman. And at my right is Plegia’s Master Tactician, Lady Morgan.”

“I’m pleased to meet Ylisse’s infamous tactician.” She bowed, ignoring the stunned, open-mouthed expression that Robin couldn’t have hidden if he tried.

Morgan! _Her_ name is Morgan too? Are they twins? It couldn’t be coincidence they shared the same name and appeared the same age. Damn it all what the hell is going on!?

Chrom was just as dumbfounded. “--what did you just say?”

The girl--Morgan--was annoyed. “Is it so difficult to believe I’m a master class tactician? You should know better than anyone that youth has little bearing on ability.”

“No, that’s not it at all. It’s just you look like--”Chrom shook his head as if to physically dispel those thoughts. “No. It’s--I’m pleased to make your acquaintance Lady Morgan.”

Robin squeezed Chrom’s bicep, a much needed anchor for the squall threatening to overturn his restraint. “What the hell is going on!?” Robin whispered harshly.

“I don’t know, but you need to hold it together,” Chrom murmured.

Validar’s composure soured. “My my, sharing secrets during a peaceful accord? That’s terribly rude.”

Chrom promptly stepped forward. “My apologies Lord Validar. We meant no offense. It’s just your tactician...she--” He swiveled to the small lady, beseeching. “You look like someone very special to us and we’re momentarily stunned. We never meant to insult.”

The young girl cocked her head to one side, nonplussed blinks flickering to mirth in her moonish eyes. “Ah...I see. You mean my traitor of a brother.” She descended the dais, oversized cloak dragging along the polished floor, and addressed the group of Shepherd’s behind Chrom. “You wear a poor disguise brother. I will always see right through you.”

Blood thrummed between Robin’s ears as he whipped his head to follow the girl’s fixed stare. _Morgan?!_ Her mouth slowly flattened into a sly grin, like sap oozing from the wound of a tree, as she zeroed in on her mark. It was Ricken--no. Something wasn’t right. Upon closer inspection a new horror dawned over Robin’s world. The young mage wearing Ricken’s oversized hat and sky-blue robes...wasn’t Ricken. A crown of moving light--not unlike the hypnotic motion of a desert mirage--flickered, then sputtered into nothingness. Dove-grey eyes peeked below a mop of messy red hair--a red that was much brighter and redder than Ricken’s natural color.

Oh Gods... 

Morgan had joined them disguised as Ricken!

Too stunned to speak, Robin watched his son withdraw Ricken’s broad brimmed hat and regard the small lady who shared his name with barefaced loathing. “Don’t call me that,” Morgan hissed.

“Oh he speaks!?” she berated with an uncaring bark of laughter. “I wasn’t certain you possessed the ability after ignoring my summons for so long.”

Robin was going mad, surely this was what insanity felt like. Coherency and control slipped between the crevices of his palm like fine sand. He felt Chrom’s hand on his back and tried to concentrate on that point of warmth while everything teetered around him.

“Morgan!” Chrom shouted, fear and anger vibrating to the surface.

Morgan winced, shaking a hand through his dyed hair. “I’m sorry...I had to come. I couldn’t…” He paused to wipe away a slip of tears. “I couldn’t let you come without me. Not this time. Not with _her_ here.”

The small lady’s beguiling smile shadowed a sinister pleasure. “Father will punish you, dear brother. Not I. You should have cowered in their gilded cage while you had the chance.”

“I know,” Morgan gritted, crippling fear draining the hue of his round cheeks to a dull ash.

Finally Robin’s mouth moved. He expected anger to come forth, a fierce parental anger born of fear. Instead he found a different facet of parental instinct loosed from his tongue, directed at the slight girl who called herself Morgan’s sister. “Are you...my daughter?”

The small lady’s mouth parted, surprise lancing across her eyes. “Are—are you serious?” She turned her entire body towards him, the slight span of her fragile-looking shoulders visibly tense even beneath the weight of her robe. “You? You think you can compare to him? You are weak. _Human_.” She spat the word as if the very thought disgusted her. As if she herself wasn’t human. “You are not my father,” she finalized. “And you aren’t my brother's father either.”

Morgan reached forward and grabbed his sister’s shoulder, forcing her away from Robin. “You’re wrong, he is our father! More than that possessed shell will ever be.”

A frigid, pallid anger seeped into her eyes as she whipped forth her right hand and wordlessly backhanded Morgan across the face. Her petite size belied a sizable strength, proven when Morgan’s body sailed across the tiled floor. Both Robin and Chrom shot forward, intent on protecting Morgan from further harm. Chrom placed his body between them, hand going for the Falchion at his hip without a moments hesitation.

“Strike him again and you face me,” Chrom uttered darkly. His aggression galvanized the Shepherds--swords, lances and axes sparked from their sheaths in unison.

“I will do what I please, servant of Naga.” She sneered in return, observing the circle of steady blades now aimed towards her as if they posed no threat. 

Robin gingerly touched Morgan’s swollen cheek. “Are you alright?” 

Morgan’s tear-stained face made everything inside Robin hurt. “I’m sorry I deceived you,” he sobbed quietly. “I’m so sorry…”

Robin scooped Morgan into his arms. “I forgive you,” he hushed. Then he gently coaxed Chrom to his side so he could address the small lady. “Morgan is my son,” he told her. “Nothing you can say or do will ever change my mind.”

She pretended to gag. “Your opinion of him is of little consequence to me. We are what we are, and your fool’s hope will not change our fate.”

“And what is your fate?” Robin persisted.

For the first time since meeting her she appeared uncertain. Hesitation drifted over her face like a cloud briefly obscuring the sun before she answered. “The same as yours.”

A loud clap erupted from the dais where Validar stood, momentarily forgotten by everyone in the room. “That’s quite enough my Lady.” He frowned. “I’m afraid you’re only confusing the poor Ylissean’s.”

She shrugged and waited for the Shepherd’s to remove their brandished blades before wordlessly rejoining Validar and Aversa. “There,” Validar said, unconcerned. “No harm done. Shall we get back to the matter at hand?”

Robin could see Chrom’s mouth twitch in anger before he confronted the three Plegian’s standing placidly above them. “You don’t expect us to ignore what has happened do you?”

Disappointment evident on his long face, Validar pointed out, “I expect you to conduct yourself in a fitting manner Exalt Chrom. You are here to retrieve something from me, yes?”

Chrom glanced at Robin before responding, “You’re offering us Sable in return for what exactly? Peace between our kingdoms?”

Validar tried very hard not to reveal distaste for Chrom’s words. Robin saw right through it. “Something like that.”

“Then let us strike an accord right now,” Chrom insisted. “I want nothing more than to negotiate an end to the enmity between us.” Though Chrom’s words rang true, doubt permeated them. Robin helped Morgan to his feet and stood beside Chrom, hands joined.

Validar’s narrow gaze landed on their clasped hands, lip curled in disgust. “First we must continue the introductions,” he told them. 

“You have yet to meet our Hierophant,” Aversa added. “He awaits you in the Sanctuary.”

“Please take us to him then.” Chrom motioned Robin and the Shepherds to mobilize.

Aversa sucked air between her teeth, paper-thin sympathy exaggerated between the crease of her brow. “I’m so very sorry your Highness but the Hierophant requested only one of you to see him.”

“Oh,” Chrom said, momentarily shaken. “Right.” Certainty fled from his eyes, though he managed to craft a reassuring smile for Robin.

Before Chrom stepped forward Validar stopped him. “Not you Exalt Chrom.” His eyes snapped to Robin. “Our Hierophant wishes to speak to Master Robin. Alone.”

“Absolutely not,” Chrom countered, arm held protectively in front of Robin. “He stays with me.”

The flat, unamused line of Validar’s mouth complemented an annoyed flicker in his coal black eyes. “Then we have nothing to discuss.”

Chrom simmered with anger. “That’s it? You have no desire to negotiate if I don’t give you Robin?”

“You’re being much too dramatic. The Hierophant only wishes to speak to him, nothing more. The Sanctuary is our most hallowed chamber and access is strictly forbidden to all but a select few.” Validar’s lips insinuated the barest of smiles. “I’m certain I don’t need to tell you why Master Robin is permitted to enter such a place?”

Robin watched Chrom chew his lower lip, likely contemplating the best way smack Validar without instigating a full blown war. “It’s alright Chrom,” Robin said.

“But--”

“I can handle myself, remember?” 

Robin hated seeing Chrom so troubled by his leave but he admitted there was something intriguing about meeting the Hierophant alone in a place meant for Plegian royalty. Alarmed and strangely excited, Robin marched up to Validar. “I’m ready to see him.”

An oily smile spread across Validar’s face. “Follow me.” Aversa and the small lady Morgan remained still while Validar swept down the dais toward a threshold curtained in silk. Robin sent one last reassuring nod to Chrom, who had one arm wrapped around Morgan, and ignored the pang of empathy from Chrom’s worried frown. “This way,” Validar spoke up, pushing aside a panel. 

Only darkness waited for him. Swallowing his nerves, Robin crossed the threshold into a shadowed parlor. Validar glided deeper into the room, Robin struggled to keep up as his eyes darted between elaborate oil paintings of Plegian landscapes and gilded alcoves housing incense burners releasing thin plumes of smoldering amber. Without warning Validar stopped, long frame swiveled slightly to regard Robin with an arched brow. “Do try and keep up.”

Robin debated addressing his burning questions right then and there but something on Validar’s face stopped him. There was a coldness in his supposed father’s black eyes that suggested an express lack of empathy for anything he had to say. So he bottled his inquiries and followed Validar closely as they descended a narrow set of stairs. Deeper and deeper they traveled, spiraling down into the bowels of the temple complex.

After what seemed an endless coil of stone steps leading into darkness, they arrived at a solitary black door. Golden script embedded into the door glinted between six purple-hued sconces. This was undoubtedly a Sanctuary dedicated to Grima. Aside from the elegant scrawl nothing else adorned the door, which appeared to be a solid slab of smooth, polished stone. Validar, unhelpfully silent, made no move to enter the Sanctuary.

“How does it open?” Robin asked, searching for a door handle. Shrieking metal bellowed into the shadows as Validar whipped a small dagger from his belt. Robin’s fingers instantly sank into the silver-bound tome in his cloak--confident he could parry Validar’s small weapon and retaliate with a spell. Validar smirked, turning the blade in his hand to offer Robin the thin pewter handle.

“What’s this for?” Robin asked warily.

“Would you like proof that you are indeed my son?” Stunned motionless, Robin simply watched Validar’s crooked mouth work into an uptight frown. “The proof is in your blood, which is the key to this door. Only those of royal heritage are allowed in the Sanctuary. I trust you know what to do with this?” His sharp eyes went to the dagger held between his spindly fingers.

Robin swallowed, slowly releasing the tome between his fingers and accepting Validar’s dagger. It was small but weighty, with razor-thin edges and a feather motif carved into the hilt. He directed the blade across his forefinger and felt nothing as blood bloomed from the cut. 

“Drive your finger across the ancient script,” instructed Validar as he retrieved the dagger. 

Robin did so, a smear of crimson clashing with gold. Without so much as a whisper the door simply opened, at the same time the six violet sconces snuffed from life. Everything was thrown into darkness save for the golden text illuminated on the front of the door.

“There is your proof,” Validar said, face unreadable in the quiet glow. Robin had no words, only a pit in his stomach confirming something he already believed. Being the prince and heir of Plegia didn’t bother him--it was having Validar as a father that twisted his gut in unpleasant ways. Still, he needed to know more. He needed to know if the Hierophant waiting for him beyond the door was also a vessel of Grima--he needed to know if he was truly alone.

Robin took a breath, as if he was about to dive into a deep unknown, and plunged through the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping having two "Morgans" in the story will not be too confusing. I wasn't completely sold on the idea and I'm still working it out in my head but every other name I had for her didn't feel right.


	13. Dragon's Sway

Robin didn’t know what he expected to see, but the warm candlelight and cozy, almost intimate furnishings surprised him. Detailed tapestries depicting ancient battles overlay the stone walls, countless millennia reflected in painstaking needlework. Neatly piled books towered around a plush wingback chair and dark-wood table, on top of which sat a heavy ceramic mug. Rows of bookcases impressively stacked with everything from battle analytics to Archanean fables--many of which Robin recognized--put his own collection to shame. At the far end of the elongated room was a black pedestal long enough for a man to lie upon, though it too was covered with books, inkwells and thick reams of vellum paper.

“Where’s the Hierophant?” Robin asked, looking back at Validar. He received no response from the closed door, and Validar hadn’t followed him. He was alone. Though Robin had never seen a Grimleal sanctuary he was strangely at home accompanied by familiar books and a mug of--ginger spice tea? His favored brew, Robin especially loved drinking tea while relaxing with something introspective like _Asherel’s Delectation_. And, with terrifying accuracy, that same book sat beside the half-drunk mug on the table. Robin’s fingers drifted across the cover of that book, he noted the shabby spine and dog-eared pages and for one delirious moment he actually thought it was the same book. As if the Plegian Hierophant had stolen into his room in Ylisse and taken that one book from its home.

The barest of sounds, light as the beat of a bird’s wings, disturbed the pensive silence. Alert, Robin instantly reached for his tome in time to see a tall, broad figure standing at the end of the room in front of the altar. The man wore an ebony-veneered half plate, his face obscured by a voluminous cowl. Robin noted the broad chest and powerful arms, at once recognizing the markings of an experienced knight of the same caliber as Frederick. Though the man’s ensuing silence unnerved Robin, that was nothing compared to the burning red-eyed gaze that nearly gutted him from a distance. Robin clutched his tome tighter, fingers delving between the pages. When the man didn’t introduce himself, merely standing still as a ghost, Robin cleared his throat.

“Hello,” he began, “Are you the Hierophant I have heard so much about?” The man remained motionless, not even a flicker of acknowledgement appeared in the smoldering cinders he had for eyes. Robin stepped forward and tried again. “Can you tell me where the Hierophant is?”

Nothing. 

Then, something. The atmosphere changed, shifted. Robin didn’t know why but the room felt colder. The air, stale and thick. Light diminished--similar to a sky darkened by an eclipsing moon. The voice that finally slithered from the shadows of the room startled him. “He’s right here.” 

Within the span of a single breath another figure appeared beside the silent warrior. He was smaller, modest in stature with narrow shoulders and thin wrists. Everything else about him remained a mystery beneath a heavy violet cloak--similar to the lady Morgan’s save for a six-winged motif emblazoned along the neck and shoulders. Robin sensed an immense aptitude for magic simmering beneath the man’s calm exterior, more than he had ever sensed in another person. “You are quite wasting your breath addressing my servant. He doesn’t speak.”

“You are the Hierophant?” Robin addressed, fingers reflexively smoothing down the embossing of his tome and unlatching the final binding.

The barest shadow of amity appeared on the man’s mouth--the only expression not obscured by the hood of his cloak. “I am.”

“Are you also related to Validar? Are you being forced to do his bidding?”

An irritated twitch marred the otherwise smooth contours of the Hierophant's slim jaw. “I am above such things.”

“But I thought you--”

The Hierophant carried on, aristocratic tone smooth as silk in Robin’s ear. “What is a king? An office worthy of respect from the rabble they rule? Perhaps. But to me--” A crude, mirthless smirk sharpened his lips. “To me a king is simply a corpse waiting for the chains of life to snap.”

Robin’s basest, deepest instincts screeched with fear, though he was unable to decide if he should fight or flee. The Hierophant eased away from his silent servant, hands open in a gesture of surrender though Robin sensed nothing of the kind from the dangerous man. “All living things are the same: insignificant flesh given life through the arbitrary acts of capricious gods. Humanity in particular is an inferior creation.”

“How can you say that? Don’t you serve the Grimleal faithful?”

The Hierophant paused. “A god does not serve their flock.” An unnaturally wide, almost gaping grin split the man’s face nearly in half, teeth flashing. “They feast from them.”

Robin’s instincts now blared like the cringing bellows of warhorns between his ears. Goosed flesh spread like wildfire, roused to the call of survival. Everything inside Robin screamed one word: Run!

_Run!_

Robin’s legs filled with lead, refusing to budge. So he whipped forth his Arcthunder tome, runic spells perched on his tongue like a bird crouched before flight. “Oh, none of that. Why would I want to harm you young one?” The Hierophant closed in, unseen face rounding Robin’s cheek, and breathed saccharine words into his ear. “That’s the last thing I want. You see, we’re connected. Like intertwined threads woven into the tapestry of fate.” 

Robin swallowed, breath stuttering as he craned his neck. The spells on his tongue melted away. “What do you mean?” he rasped, words strained to a whisper.

The Hierophant chided him. “You still don’t remember anything? At times I fail to see how such frail housing continues to thrive. As astonishing as it is pitiful.” 

Time marched in tandem to the erratic flutter of Robin’s heart. He was terrified of the man-- _thing_ \--which addressed him with all of the warmth of a predator considering its prey. A grin so brutal it barely looked human opened the Hierophant’s lips as he slowly withdrew the hood obscuring his face. There were no words, no emotions comprehensible enough to describe the abject horror Robin felt.

All at once Robin knew. With a rush of despair he didn't think he would survive he knew what--whom--he looked upon. The twisted mockery standing before him, flaunting Robin’s own face, laughed. It laughed and laughed like Robin’s despair was the only thing in a hundred years to stir such glee. A set of imperious crimson eyes regarded Robin, below which lay open scars like molten cracks of lava blazed into the skin, a row of two on each side. They descended from the Hierophant’s eyes like additional unblinking sets. 

Like there were six eyes. The Grimleal Hierophant was...

Grima. 

Grima wore _his_ face, enslaved the very breath from his body and imprisoned the identity which once resided there. Everything made sense now: the books, the mug of his favorite tea; _Asherel’s Delectation_. A perverse mirror image smirking back. This was Morgan’s real father--the one who allowed the devil itself to devour his soul.

The one who murdered Chrom. 

“Little Bird…” Grima purred beside Robin’s cheek like a cat nuzzling the lifeless body of a favorite plaything. “I forgot how terribly human you are.”

Involuntary tremors wracked Robin’s body as he experienced not only an intense, feverish panic but also hatred. White hot rage lanced through his chest, seized the muscles of his arm and sent a shaking fist flying towards Grima’s mocking face. It stopped short of its mark before Robin was forced to his knees by bright, excruciating agony. Finger bones cracked beneath Grima’s superior strength. 

“Do not my test my benevolence Little Bird. I can crush every bone in that pathetic bag of flesh until you beg your absent gods for respite.” Grima’s glare flashed violet for a moment. “Your undying body will entertain my servant until I flay the life from your wretchedness like ripping free the bones of a wriggling fish.” A cruel smile curled Grima’s lips. “Do you understand?”

Robin forced a mute nod, desperate for Grima to release his fist. When at last relief came to him it was short lived, as the fingers of his right hand were grotesquely twisted. Robin wept as he cradled his hand against his chest. 

Grima observed him, dispassionate. “I didn’t want to do that but clearly you needed discipline.” He stepped past Robin and returned to the altar at the end of the room next to the unmoved servant. “I suppose rebellion is part of your nature, inherently attached to your humanity. I shouldn’t expect better of you. Not yet anyway.”

Grima turned towards the altar, pushing paper and inkwells to one side uncovering a smooth, unblemished surface. He whispered a harsh, archaic command that drowned Robin’s thoughts like flies drawn to sludge. A thick, oozing poison seeped into his blood before fading away. Abruptly the mute servant nodded and touched the eye of a colorless gem adorning a collar at his throat—then disappeared in a whisper of cloth. Grima turned back towards Robin.

“I can be magnanimous, Little Bird, if you cooperate. I can dull your pain, free you from the cage you have so ignorantly kept. All you need do is open your heart to me.”

Robin spat his disgust. “Never.”

Grima’s inhuman gaze crawled across Robin’s flesh. “Then it appears I have work to do.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Chrom stared at the threshold where Robin had disappeared some time ago. Neither Robin nor Validar returned, tearing apart Chrom’s already threadbare composure. They should have come back by now. Morgan stood beside him, face contorted with the same worry that must have marked Chrom’s features. Finally Chrom tore his gaze from the curtained doorway and observed the Shepherds, weapons poised as if he might give the signal to attack any moment. Chrom sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Let’s stay calm everyone,” he announced, feeling every inch a hypocrite. “Put away your weapons.” 

Murmurs swept across the room. Frederick strode up to Chrom, heavy frown upon his face. “Milord, we should remain on alert. Aversa is here, as is the distinct possibility we will be swarmed by Grimleal any moment.”

Morgan planted himself between Chrom and Frederick. “We shouldn’t worry about Aversa,” he said, glancing to the dais. His eyes sought the waifish girl--the other Morgan--standing there. “My sister is the true threat. She’s carrying out my father’s will.”

Chrom swallowed. “Is she truly your sister? How is this possible Morgan? We found you in a gate from another timeline, a happenstance that doesn’t seem to add up as of now.”

Morgan turned away, arms wrapped protectively around his chest. “That’s...difficult to explain.”

“It’s not difficult at all, dear brother.” Lady Morgan’s voice carried across the room. “Or is it shame that stays your tongue?”

Morgan grimaced. “My only shame is that I used to follow your orders. That I believed in them.”

The Lady’s laughter grated Chrom like broken glass. “You cannot outrun your destiny. If you choose to stand with Naga’s servants you will find your path filled with blood and pain.”

Morgan’s eyes flashed. “My life has already been nothing but blood and pain. At the very least I can do something no one else here can do.”

The Lady sneered. “And what’s that?”

“Kill you.”

The Lady responded to Morgan’s anger with a perfunctory shrug. “Perhaps you will kill me one day if you side with them. Maybe you aren’t the feckless little maggot I thought you were if you can muster the courage to attack me.” She slowly descended the dais and peeled away the heavy confines of her robe to reveal a black bodysuit with a broad leather belt and segmented thigh armor, golden armlets and a feathered gorget necklace that stretched from her tiny throat to the curve of her shoulders.From one of two scabbards at her hip she retrieved a wicked looking curved blade with a bone hilt. She tested it between her hands, alternating spins and lunges as easily as the most skilled swordmasters of Regna Ferox.

Morgan answered her provocation with a haunted but determined nod and shook free the blue garbs he had borrowed from Ricken. Beneath the layers he wore the same simple woolen trousers Robin wore, and a long-sleeved dark blue tunic. From a holster at his thigh he withdrew a black book Chrom had never seen Morgan wield before.

The Lady struck the point of her curved blade towards Morgan. “You’re going to try and kill me with the Book of Truth? I had no idea you had a sense of humor brother.”

Chrom could no longer watch their exchange, he had wanted to know more about the girl who called herself Morgan’s sister but it was clear she and Morgan intended bloodshed. He had to keep Morgan and his army safe. He had to keep the peace until Robin returned. Chrom reached over and gently pushed down the tome gripped between Morgans shaking hands. “Morgan...rising to her bait will only cause more hardship. I don’t know the history between you two but I know you. I trust you. So please, ignore her barbs and help me keep everyone here safe.”

Morgan looked up at Chrom, mouth trembling the slightest bit as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “You...you don’t know what she’s done. What I’ve done. This is what we deserve.”

Chrom shook his head, calm and patient. “It doesn’t matter. You’re part of my family now and the last thing I want to see is you getting hurt.”

The Lady frowned, disappointed. “Where has your killing spirit gone brother? Did the worms eat their way into your heart after all?” She shoved her sword back into its scabbard and crossed her arms. “I never expected much from you, yet somehow I’m still disappointed.”

Chrom regarded the small girl and her fierce, arrogant glare. “We are here only to retrieve the Sacred Stone. The last thing anyone wants is to incite war.”

She gave him a cool once-over before answering. “Exalt Chrom of Ylisse--the pious son of an aborrent man. You speak with an authority you hardly deserve.” 

“I couldn’t agree more my Lady,” Chrom said. “I am a poor replacement for my sister Emmeryn and I have taken her office with a heavy heart. I can only hope to achieve a modicum of her unwavering spirit.”

“Humility. That’s almost worse.” She heaved a put-upon sigh. “Very well. I will not remove my fool brother’s head from his shoulders for his betrayal. I’m sure father has something more...interesting planned.”

Chrom knew her father was Robin’s apocalyptic future self. The bigger question? How much time did they have before that man sent his regards. Should Chrom expect another dimensional gate to herald his arrival or were things far worse than he possibly imagined. Chrom’s eyes swiveled back to the threshold where Robin disappeared, alarmed by a solitary shadow standing there. Immediately he knew it wasn’t Robin, the silhouette was much too broad and the cross hilt of a two-handed sword jutted above one shoulder. Chrom licked his dry lips and called Frederick.

“My lord?” Silently Chrom gestured towards the immobile shadow, Frederick’s mouth deepened to a concerned frown. “Trouble brewing?”

“Possibly.” Chrom seized Morgan’s attention. “Morgan...do you know who that is?” Morgan’s face stilled, a startled gasp escaping his mouth. “I take that as a yes,” Chrom murmured. ”Should we be worried?”

“Yes,” Morgan instantly replied, pale eyes limned with terrified awe. “Very worried.”

“Who is that man?” Frederick wanted to know.

“He’s my father’s right hand,” Morgan nearly whispered.

“I thought she was your father’s right hand.” Frederick directed his attention towards the diminutive girl wearing a dark scowl.

Morgan snorted. “She’s barely above me in my father’s eyes.”

Chrom’s nerves crackled, raked by a fervor not unlike a cornered animal. “Where in Naga’s name is Robin?” That answer came stunningly quick when Validar clapped his hands, loud and clear in the barren enormity of the chamber. His appearance so sudden Chrom thought he only imagined Validar’s hard-eyed gleam and crooked smirk.

“It seems the negotiations are nearing completion,” Validar announced, as if his guests had overstayed their welcome. 

“Where the hell is Robin?” Chrom eschewed diplomacy, engulfed by anger and betrayal at the sight of Validar alone. “So help me I will--”

“You will what? Attack me?” A single thin eyebrow arched dramatically above Validar’s stony regard. “You were on the losing side the moment you entered Grima’s temple with the Fire Emblem and Lord Grima’s chosen vessel. You--” He held Chrom’s fiery gaze with unrivaled contempt. “--never had a chance, child of Naga.”

To hell with peace Chrom thought as he ripped Falchion free and leveled the gleaming edge to Validar’s complacent attention. “Return him. Now.” A song of brandished blades filled the chamber as every Shepherd wordlessly responded to Chrom’s first move. Aversa and the small Lady watched carefully, ostensibly unconcerned, as if the fangs bared before them belonged to an excitable kitten. Chrom should have recognized their nonchalance as a warning, a predictor. Robin would know what to do Chrom desperately thought as he ground one foot to the floor and sprung forward.

Validar’s oily smile widened before he voiced a single command. “Rise.”

Space distorted, seized the air like a hand crumpling a smooth sheet of paper. Risen. Dozens of Risen shambled from twisted fissures, miniature gates which closed behind them with a sluggish blink. Red-eyed decay stared back at the Shepherds, axes and swords poised for bone crushing strikes. Chrom stopped short of his mark at the first step of the dais. Validar’s pointed face regarded him with vast, manifest derision. 

Chrom cursed, gaze sweeping the circle of Risen slowly staggering towards his group. It was far too early to enact Robin’s escape plan, and there was absolutely no way Chrom was going to leave without Robin.

No way.

“I shall give you a choice, Exalt Chrom,” Validar said slowly. “Give me the Fire Emblem and I will let your people live.”

Suspicion joined the menagerie of emotions crowding Chrom’s chest. “Why offer me a choice at all? You clearly have the upper hand.”

Validar clearly disliked the idea of sparing the Shepherds, it sat plainly on his face as he said, “I know. But the decision is not mine. If it were up to me you would already be an unsightly stain on my floor.”

Further interrogation ground to a halt when a man Chrom had never seen appeared beside Validar, quiet as a wisp of smoke. A hooded man dressed in violet robes occupied a previously vacant space next to Validar, his smaller frame dwarfed by the tall, narrow line of Validar’s spindly body, yet Validar immediately bowed his head in deference. “My Lord,” he said. “We are ready for you.” Behind Validar Aversa averted her gaze but made no effort for further humility. Conversely the small Lady dropped to the floor, forehead humbly pressed against black stone.

“I see that,” the man observed, frown solidly in place on the only part of his face Chrom could see. “They still have the Fire Emblem.”

“Not for long my Lord.”

Chrom tucked into his shield and carefully rejoined the line of Shepherd’s bristling behind. “Remember your formation! Hold the outer line!” A unanimous reply echoed from the Shepherd’s, shields rushing to the front while rangers and mages clustered behind. The Risen teetering sluggishly outside their formation didn’t move forward. 

“Why have you summoned the Risen?” the cloaked man demanded. 

Validar’s gaze lifted, perplexed. “My Lord they--” His words cut short as the man disregarded Validar’s reply with a flippant wave.

“Nevermind.” The mysterious man snapped his fingers, dissolving the myriad of moaning Risen into piles of marrow dust on the polished floor. Unceremoniously he sank into an overtly casual seated position on the first step of the dais, chin resting neatly between curved palms. “You have something that belongs to me.”

Chrom recognized the statement was directed at him. His grip on the shield latched to his forearm tightened. “It’s not yours.”

A mirthless smile crept onto the man’s lips. “It was mine long before you had it.”

Unaccountably Chrom questioned whether the man spoke of the Fire Emblem or something else. It was obvious he wanted the Fire Emblem, but the man’s words took a bite from a deeper, more meaningful part of Chrom’s being. Chrom’s concern for Robin erupted.

“Where have you taken Robin!?” Chrom demanded. He had worked out the man must be the Hierophant. Who else could demand Validar’s subservience.

The mouth beneath the man’s hood twitched, flattening into a broad line which regarded Chrom with a level of contempt previously unweathered. “You are smarter than you look Chrom,” the man finally replied. He eased from his seat on the steps and moved closer to the Shepherds, completely unfazed by the challenging point of Chrom’s sword. “I can see now that things are a bit different here.” Then his gaze, or what accounted for a gaze beneath the drapery, pointedly shifted somewhere beside Chrom’s shoulder. “Boy.”

Chrom’s attention swung towards Morgan, the boy’s ashen face shocked still. He boldly maneuvered Morgan into the protective hollow of his shield. “He has a name,” Chrom stated acidly.

“I know. I gave it to him,” The man shot back.

Chrom’s sword arm involuntarily trembled as understanding bloomed like a terrible, sunless flower in the depth of his chest. The undisguised horror dawning over Chrom didn’t go unnoticed. The mangled concept of a smile corrupted the man’s lips. “I suppose subterfuge is no longer necessary.” What Chrom saw next had only existed in his worst nightmares.

The face which regarded him now was a perverted mockery of his heart’s utmost desires. A wave of alarmed gasps swept behind him, igniting banners of desperation and panic. Chrom distantly knew he should quell the disarray mounting behind him but all he could do was stare openly, in abject incredulity, at the cruelly handsome face looking back.

Oh Gods…

The time to retreat receded with every passing second. Chrom exchanged stunned glances with Frederick, then Lucina and Sumia who determinedly curled together behind their shield ranks. He was about to release the signal to employ Robin’s escape plan when small fingers tugged against his sword arm. Chrom met Morgan’s wide-eyed face. “Get ready,” Chrom whispered. Morgan simply shook his head and tugged harder against Chrom’s grip on Falchion. Chrom’s next words died, strangled in his parched throat when Morgan’s pale eyes diffused like glass.

“Give it to him,” Morgan uttered in a strange voice.


End file.
